Retribution to Revenge
by goldensomething
Summary: Violet Parr wakes up in a dark titanium cell with no recollection of how she'd arrived. She is shocked and horrified to find that her kidnapper is Syndrome, the villain from her past. Syndrome is in fact alive and well, and aching for revenge...SYNLET
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Incredibles ._

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_**Chapter 1**_

With hands clasped behind his broad back, the flame-haired man stood silently just outside a solid titanium door that had a small window, barely big enough for a pair of eyes to peer through. He was a tall man, and the small window would come to his nose should he be standing any closer. As it was, he was far enough away that he was able to calmly peer through the glass without any bending or shifting.

He glowed with self satisfaction, but instead of beaming in happiness, he smiled smugly, with a small smirk curling up one corner of his thin lips. His eyes, crystal blue and hard as steel, never wavered from the object of his observation.

"That…was easier than I thought it would be…" he murmured to himself, his voice coming in a soft purr of approval. Still smirking to himself, he finally turned away from the door, and turned down a brightly lit hallway. As he did so, the light from inside the small window faded away into darkness.

As his footsteps retreated away from the singular door at the end of the short hallway, those lights, too, dimmed and faded away into darkness, leaving only the light from the room at the opposite end of the hall to spill through and create a dim shadowy realm. But as the man stepped into said doorway, his wide shoulders and tall hair blocked most of the light. It was with a small chuckle that barely resonated off the walls that the man pulled closed that door, and then the darkness was complete.

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In this darkness, no more than an hour after the man's departure, something stirred in behind that tiny window. Inside that titanium door was a small square room made entirely of titanium. The room was roughly ten feet by ten feet, with another ten feet to the titanium ceiling. The floor was again titanium, and covered by a sole object. Rather, it was a slender body, which had slowly begun to stir from a sleep or unconscious state.

Violet Parr opened her eyes, only to close them, finding no difference between the two circumstances. It was only after a groan did she pushed her upper body off the ground in a semi-sitting position, and blinked her eyes several times. Still, there was no light.

"Where am I…?" she wondered out loud, reaching up to touch her slightly aching forehead. As she began to orient herself, she began to accept that she was in a very very dark place. This observation, although unexciting and uninformative as it may be, was enough to set a small creeping fear up her slender spine.

She inspected herself first. She was still wearing her Super suit, but her mask was gone. This drove another shiver through her, as her mask had come to mean the protection of her secret identity. Did her captor know her secret identity? Violet's hands shook a little from the possibility, but she soon quelled the feel. It made her notice the thick metal band that surrounded her left wrist. Frowning, she touched it with her right hand, running her fingers over the smooth metal. She couldn't even feel the clasp. It was light, but heavy enough for her to feel the weight of it when she lifted both hands. She had no idea what it was, but any attempt to slip her hand out of it or open it failed, so she left it alone to continue her exploration of her new environment.

Cautiously, she got up onto her hands and knees, and then pushed up slowly, raising herself to her full height with care in case there was something above her. Walking, or shuffling, she held her hands out in front of her and began to explore her surroundings. It didn't take long.

_Good, so…I'm in a small little room of some kind of metal, with a door that has no handle and a window that is as big as my hand and as dark as the metal surrounding it…Great. _She mused silently, finally seating herself back down. She had already forced panic down and out of her chest, where it squirmed uncomfortably and mostly ignored in her stomach.

_Think, __Vi__, think. What do you remember?_ Frowning, the young woman began to retrace her steps from the last time she woke.

Morning just like any other…Woke up in her childhood bed, as it was the summer after high school and she had yet to move out to the college dorms. Had breakfast with her family…Spent most of the morning in her room, drawing.

She had received a call from a friend who'd asked her to go see some movies with some other friends…She remembered telling her mother, who had of course consented, so long as she watched Jack Jack while her mother was out running errands.

Violet Frowned, pausing in her thought process. Had she heard something? Turning her head to where she thought the handle-less door was, she listened. But after a few moments of nothing, she returned to her thoughts, reaching up to pull her long black hair from her round face.

When her mother had gotten home, Violet had been ready to leave for the movies when the alarm sounded from the telephone. Faster than the human, and sometimes even mechanical, eye could catch, her brother Dash was out of his room and fully dressed in his Super suit. He eager jumped up and down while the rest of the family hurried to their own suits and pulled them on as quickly as possible.

As Violet pulled her hair back a second time, her fingers slid over her skull, and felt the bump at the back of her head. She winced when her fingers came in contact with it. "Ouch…oh man…Did somebody hit me?" She whispered quietly, bending her head down to gingerly touch it. There, right at the back of her head, the bump throbbed in quiet pain. She hadn't noticed it before because her whole head ached, to be honest. But now, as her fingers gently examined the rest of her skull, she tried to remember the rest.

There had been a fight. Some villain had been attacking the local elementary school, for reasons beyond her. It seemed like general Super work at first. Jack Jack was dropped off at a Honey's place on the way to the scene, where Frozone joined them. Thinking back, Violet remembered thinking that attacking a kid's school was very odd, and although the man, whose name she did not know, seemed intent on what he was doing, he seemed distracted and wasn't fighting them very well. It was like he was waiting for something.

The rest of the fight was hazy. Mostly, the fight had gone on as it normally did when they fought a villain of lesser abilities. Every since the incident a little over four years ago, Violet and her family had been fighting crime ever since. She had changed a lot, growing more certain in her powers and abilities. However, Violet remained the more meek of fighters, as her power's were less than offensive. She stayed on the outskirts of the fight, using her shields to her family's advantage. Normally she'd stay invisible, in case any other foes would try and attack her, but this time, she'd felt certain he was the only one, and she'd kept her back to the brick wall of the school. She had thought her back had been against the elementary school wall the whole time, but perhaps she'd moved a little in her attempts to help her family. Perhaps she'd exposed her back at some point, and that was where she'd received this lovely goose egg.

All she could remember after that was throwing up a shield around Dash as a piece of rock came flying at him, and then, whoosh, nothing. Everything went dark…_and was still dark_, she retorted in her own head, scooting back until she rested against one of the hard walls, bringing her legs up to her chest.

As she sat in total darkness and silence, her empty mind started to fill up, and a small tremble passed from her head to her feet. As much as she struggled to keep her mind off of it, there was no denying the truth.

During the chaos of the battle, someone had kidnapped her.

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Syndrome leaned back in his leather chair and stared up at the large computer screen in front of him. There, an image was vaguely visible, outline in shadows. Although the camera could see fairly well with just a little light, it was a grainy picture with such pitch darkness. The camera was located in the back right hand corner of the titanium room, and gave Syndrome a full view of what his little prisoner was up to.

_I have finally caught the key to my revenge…_He thought to himself, studying her outline carefully.

She had changed. The four years since their first meeting, Violet Parr had filled out a little, but not much. She was still very slender, and had grown little in height. The only noticeable difference came from the slightly rounder and fuller hips, as well as more prominent breasts, small as they were. Her hair was longer, though not by much. Her eyes were less round, though still a prominent feature of her face. Her skin was fair, a complete contrast to her dark shiny hair. It made her look vulnerable, especially with that tiny nose and mouth and those big blue/purple eyes of hers. Of course, those features were hardly discernable now, but he had gotten his fair share looking in the past few weeks as he followed her every movement. She had become the obvious point of success for his revenge against Bob Parr, aka, Mr. Incredible. So, he had followed her to see how she fought, to find her weaknesses, to discover how to capture her without any immediate notice of her family. That, and he was pretty sure she wouldn't come without a fight. So, he'd hired a villain to attack someplace to distract everyone, and then he had his chance. He knew how the little Super fought, and it gave him the perfect opportunity to nab her during the fray.

Syndrome let out a sigh and turned away from the screen, where his prisoner had retreated back against the wall and was now motionless. Instead, he turned his gaze around the room, filled with his inventions and several other technological wonders he'd been able to scavenge together throughout the four years he'd spend in hiding. He could still remember waking up in a stranger's bed, unable to remember what had happened and where he was. The old lady who had taken him in after finding his battered and bruised body in the bushes of her backyard had been kind to him. He hadn't remembered much of who he was, but it hadn't been more than two weeks since his recovery that he'd spotted a man on the street. The man's face has clicked something in his head. Mr. Incredible, walking with his two older children, down the sidewalk.

The rage and the anger that sparked at the man's face was enough to trigger his fuzzy memory. Although the memory of how he survived the explosion and the jet engine was black, everything else came rushing back with a vengeance. He'd disappeared, never thanking the old woman or even seeing her again. He went to places he knew were safe, gaining help from influential people who'd bought his inventions. It was a long process, and with new inventions that he managed to create, he'd finally made the enough money to feel comfortable again. That was when he'd started on his plan…

"Violet Parr…you are going to be the key to ruining your father." Smirking, Syndrome rose from his chair and went to confront the daughter of his life-long enemy.

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Violet had been thinking about her family, wondering if they had also been hurt or kidnapped, when the little window suddenly glowed with faint light. The light flickered a little, and then grew brighter. Violet had to squint her eyes against it for a moment, rising to her feet. With the light came footsteps. With the footsteps came apprehension.

Gritting her teeth, Violet spread her stance and brought up her hands, ready to defend herself. She was shaking a little, but fear wasn't going to stop her from fighting back. She'd never been in a situation like this without her family there, and that was what drove the fear through her.

The footsteps stopped in front of the door. Suddenly, there was light all around her. Letting out a small noise of protest as the semi-bright lights hurt her eyes; she ducked her head a little and squinted. The lights came from small flat circles in the ceiling. She was still trying to see clearly when the door opened, and a large figure stepped inside.

"Violet Parr…otherwise known as Invisigirl. It's good to see you again."

Violet frowned, the voice ringing warning bells of recognition in her head. Lifting her head, her eyes had adjusted enough now that she could clearly see the man who'd entered her prison.

The moment her gaze locked onto his face, her breath stopped and her body tensed. Her eyes became as wide as saucers and all of her strength temporarily fled from her body, making her limber than her mother, Elastigirl.

Syndrome.

In the flesh, standing right in front of her, making the small cell feel even smaller in his large presence. He'd definitely changed, but in subtle ways. His eyes were crueler, less cocky and arrogant. His shoulders seemed broader, but it was only because he'd lost all that weight that had made him seem more boyish. His hair was still orange and stuck up like fire, though not as tall as it had been before. His face was leaner, but his jaw and chin were still the strongest feature of his face. He regarded her now with a cold smirk, his hands resting on his hips, where she could see the white wrist controls he'd had before. Instead of the suit she'd last seen him in, he now wore a black skintight top and pants, which a white belt across his lean hips. His boots were white, as they had been before.

She resisted the urge to take a step back. He was much taller than her. The top of his head barely skimmed over his shoulders. He was standing just inside the cell, blocking any escape, but if he were any closer to her, he would tower over her.

"You're…you're alive!" was all that she managed to sputter as reality crashed back down on top of her. Shock gave way to dread. Her trembling increased, but only long enough for her to realize it and quell it once more, lest he see how vulnerable she felt right now.

"Yep, quite alive and well, thanks." His voice dripped with sarcasm as he dipped his head in acknowledgement and let out a chuckle. "Welcome to my lair." He glanced around, momentarily taking his eyes off of her. "It's not much of a view from in here, but I'm sure you'll adjust. Maybe if you're good, I'll leave the light on this time."

Violet could only stare at him. Her thoughts were fleeing from her brain before they could fully form. All she knew was that she was in a very bad situation. Bringing up her hands a little higher, she reaffirmed her stance and narrowed her eyes into a glare. "Where is this place? Why am I here? Where is my family?" He voice was stronger than she thought it would be, making her feel a little more confident. She'd already defeated this villain, right? It should be a piece of cake the second time around.

She hoped.

"This place's location is for me to know, and you _not_ to find out. You are here because I brought you here, and you're family, I should think, are at home, wondering where you are. Or perhaps their already looking for you, but they won't find you here. I'll tell them that you've been kidnapped, of course, but I won't tell them who kidnapped you. I'll let them sweat it out for a while." Syndrome smirked even more coldly, and took a step towards her.

Every word that came out of his mouth drove fear out of her, replacing it with anger. She no longer worried about her own health, as he most likely needed her. But now she was angry for her family. Violet refused to back down, glaring at him all the fiercer as she pushed words out through gritted teeth, fueled by the anger that he created. "You are the most disgusting and childish man that has ever walked this planet. I cannot believe you are still not over this. You're like a petulant child who didn't get his way. It's almost comical." Her words were meant to hurt, trying to make him hurt as much as he was making her hurt for her family.

Faster than she knew, she was being shoved back against the wall, where her head bounced painfully and her body cried out in protest. His large hand gripped her jaw firmly and his body was crushing hers against the titanium wall. His face was inches from hers, and her glared down at her with icing deliberation.

"Do not push me. I won't tolerate it. I just have to tell them that you're alive, I don't have to keep you that way." Syndrome's voice was cool and soft, dangerous. He continued to stare down into her saucer-big eyes for a second or two, before smirked and shoving away from her body, forcing her had back against the wall again. With the support of him, she slid down to the floor, where she had no strength to regain her footing. She was only able to stare as he left the room and slammed the door behind him.

Almost at once, the lights dimmed and faded. Within moments, she was swallowed up by darkness once more, sitting there in a huddle as her breathing came in short gasps and her body trembled like a leaf. There was a sharp throbbing pain from where her head had hit the titanium and a weakness in her bones where they had been jarred by the force of his body smashing hers to the wall.

Staring into nothingness, Violet struggled against the tears that pricked the back of her eyeballs. The only thing that kept the tears away was the thought that her family would find her. They were the Incredibles, after all.

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A/N: . If you like it, please review, as it will make me write more for you!!! This is my first Synlet, so I want to know what you all think .


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Incredibles_

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_**Chapter 2**_

The rolled up newspaper fell numbly from Helen Parr's hand, rolling across the kitchen table to stop a short distance away, unnoticed, by everyone but Dashiell, who sat at the nearest chair. His eyes fell on it without much interest. He was trying to ignore the painful silence that seemed to have befallen the household ever since it was discovered that Violet had gone missing. Even Jack Jack was mostly quiet, sitting on the floor and staring up at his two silent parents with wide eyes.

"You have to stop pacing Helen. You're going to wear a hole in the carpet." Bob Parr spoke softly; as if afraid his wife might snap in half if he raised his voice any higher. Any noise in the heavy silence was near deafening, however, and Helen turned on her husband and glared at him with red rimmed eyes.

"How can you just sit there while you're daughter is missing somewhere in the world?" Helen's voice was strained and hoarse from crying. She'd lasted until nightfall without a single tear the day that Violet had mysteriously been gone after the pitiful fight. Now, the morning after, it was evident she'd cried all night.

"Dammit, I know that! But pacing isn't going to get us anyway. NSA already agreed to meet us this morning to discuss how we're going to locate her. They should be here soon." He spoke with his eyes slightly unfocused, as if his mind were furiously trying to figure out where his missing eldest was.

"Why aren't we out there, looking for her now?" Helen demanded her husband, turning on him almost savagely and glaring at him with all her might.

"Because we need NSA's help. She technically doesn't exist, Helen. She is a Super, and was kidnapped as a Super, not as Violet Parr. Without her homing device, which seems to have been disabled, she could be anywhere," Bob answered wearily, looking down at the ground and avoiding his wife's expression.

Throughout the conversation, Dash looked away from his distressed parents and slumped down against the table, his chin resting on his folded arms. Although most of his conscious life had been dedicated to telling his sister how much he'd love it if she disappeared, he made a promise now to never say that again. His listless eyes roamed over the newspaper a few inches from his nose.

There, tucked into the roll, was another piece of paper, stark white against the newspaper's slight grey tinge. Frowning, Dash reached out and worked the paper free, finding it to be a piece of folded paper. At first, he thought it must be some flyer or something, but as he unfolded it, his eyes fell on a few lines written in small neat type.

_I have your daughter._

_She is in danger as long as you continue to search for her._

_P.S. she's not afraid of the dark, is she?_

Dash's eyes slid down from the words were a small picture contained a very dark image. As his adrenaline spike, he leaned closer to the piece of paper and narrowed his eyes until the definite outline of his sister was visible through the shadows.

"Mom! Dad!"

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_If you leave her in there, ya gotta babysit her. She'll need to pee and eat and stuff, and you'll have to get up and do all of that._ Syndrome rolled his eyes as he reclined back in his chair and propped his feet up on the computer desk in front of him. 

It was already mid afternoon. When he'd grabbed her, Syndrome had given her a shot so that she wouldn't wake before he arrived back at his lair. What he hadn't expected was that her body was so small that she'd been knocked out for the whole day and into the night. When she'd finally woken, it had been early morning. It had given him enough time to get the first message out to the Parrs, and now he had a while to let them fret about their daughter.

And now he had to decide what to do with her, now that she was wide awake and here to stay. What he wanted was to not have to babysit her all the time.

"So…I'll just have to make a few modifications to the little bracelet of hers…" he muttered to himself as he eyed the monitor that gave him a view of Violet's room. She was sitting against the wall, unmoving. She had her head down, and her legs drawn up to her chest. She had remained this way for the past three hours. He had to give her credit for managing to sit still for such a long period of time. He would be utterly bored. But waiting was something he had gotten quite adept at.

Letting his feet fall from the desk, he leaned forward and began typing on a keyboard, his eyes roaming over another computer scheme. He must admit that he had given this idea some thought before, knowing that he would have the young Parr in hand for longer than a few hours or days, but as the excitement of the day of the kidnapping overrode his thoughts, he'd forgotten about it.

"Tsk tsk tsk…Mustn't get lazy this time," he muttered to himself. This time, there was no Mirage around to talk to. He'd made sure there would be no one to betray him this time, and because of that, he'd taken to talking to himself in the long silences of his empty lair. Apart from the internet, he didn't talk to many people anymore. He'd also taken to listening to music, but he'd be damned if he let his prisoner hear that. To her, he must remain as the cruel evil villain. He would have more control of her the more she feared him.

It wasn't long before Syndrome was done tinkering. Almost everything within his lair was wireless, and could be altered and controlled through wireless means. Like before, his wrist controllers were linked directly to everything, but he found it easier to work on a large computer.

Smirking, he leaned back and reviewed his work, crossing his hands over his lean stomach. Nodding to himself, he pushed up from the chair and left the room.

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It was another hour before he showed up at her door after getting everything ready. He peeked quickly through the window to see that she was still sitting against the wall, although she was looking up now, blinking against the bright lights that had suddenly appeared in the cell. 

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?" he asked in a drawling voice as he swung open the door. Her eyes darted to his face, and darkened. He couldn't tell if it was from anger or fear, but it pleased him. He wanted to affect her.

When she didn't reply to his taunt, his smirk went away and he stared down at her with the smallest hint of a frown. "What, not talking to me now? Come on, it's not that bad, is it?" He chuckled darkly and rubbed his chin as her eyes narrowed a little.

"No, not at all. I'm only being held captive by a man who's tried to kill me and my whole family on more than one occasion. I'm having the time of my life, can't you tell?" Her acid reply surprised him, pulling a small laugh from him, making her start and glare even harder.

"Well, I'm so glad you're enjoying yourself, however I'm sure you'll need to use the bathroom at some point. Unless you plan on using the corner as a potty, I think you should be a little nicer to me and stand up." Syndrome tilted his head to the side, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"No, I'm good thanks." Violet retorted and looked away from him. She was obviously trying to be difficult, and she was only going to end up hurting herself. Syndrome let out a sigh and rolled his eyes.

"Well, if you're going to be that way…" he uncrossed his arms and reached to his left wrist remote and pressed a button. He watched with a smirk as she jerked, letting out a startled yell of pain and turning wide eyes to stare up at him.

"Stand up." He repeated. "Don't make this any harder on yourself. I'm only trying to help you here." Syndrome let his finger hover over the same button, watching as she swallowed hard and pushed herself up off the ground. Her gaze was back to glaring as she rubbed her wrist just above her bracelet.

"I can do that whenever I want. That was only level one."

"You're sick," she spat at him and clenched her fists.

"And you're pathetic. We all move on." He drawled in apparent boredom and stepped back to grasp the door. "Now come on. I'll show you to your room." He turned his back on her to head out the door, listening to see if she was going to follow.

He hadn't taken any more than three steps before there was another cry behind him and the sound of a body hitting the ground. Raising an eyebrow, Syndrome glanced over his shoulder and smirked when he saw her on the ground no more than a foot from him, her face and lips tight from the pain. She opened her eyes to glare up at him through the veil of her dark hair, and determinately pushed herself up from the ground, shaking like a leaf as she did. Contrary to what might be believed, he did not enjoy causing pain to others. But his expression was blank as he watched her struggle, and finally succeed, in regaining her footing. She stood faster than he'd have thought.

"Oh, I forgot to mention that if you try anything and get too close to be, you'll be shocked. That was level five, by the way. I wouldn't try it again. Also…I don't advise trying to use your powers either. The small electric surge in your molecular structure when you try to use your abilities will trigger the bracelet to shock you at level two, which is enough to break any kind of concentration needed to use your abilities." He smirked in satisfaction and watched as she struggled to her feet again, breathing a little harder. Her body was trembling, and she was paler than usual. It made her eyes look bigger and more vibrant in color, bringing out the purple in them. They were actually quite pretty, he found himself noting, before frowning and turned away from her.

As he entered the hallway, he listened to her footsteps behind him. He was surprised she could walk so steadily after the shocks she'd just received. She was one plucky girl, that was for sure. But then again, it seemed to run in the family.

That thought made his face darken in anger. _This time, their pluckiness will not be enough_he mused to himself as he stepped out of the short hallway to her cell and into another. Turning around to face Violet, he held back a grin to see she was keeping a careful distance from him so as not to receive another shock therapy. That didn't stop her from glaring at him, but that he could handle. In fact, it amused him.

"Now, since I don't feel like babysitting you…" Syndrome indicated a doorway a few feet down the hall and looked back at her with a bored expression. "I've decided to give you free roam of my lair. You can't leave, of course, because you don't know the codes to leave. Above that, leaving the compound will result in a constant shock that would eventually kill you. As you don't know how to take the bracelet off, that could be a problem." He grinned wolfishly and stepped back to allow her to glance into the room, which comprised of a rough mattress on the ground with a blanket covering it. Besides that, the room, almost smaller than her cell, was bare and empty. Syndrome watched her expression of un-interest as her eyes returned to darting around the hallway and their surroundings. He could almost hear her brain working on ways to escape. _Fat chance…_

"In addition, there are certain rooms that you are forbidden entry. You will again be shocked if you try and enter them. You are limited to the bathroom, the kitchen, and you're room. Try to enter any other room, and you'll be sorry."

Syndrome watched her darkening expression as everything started to sink it. He had truly left nothing to chance. He grinned smugly as her crossed her arms over his chest. He watched her as she took in a breath and slowly let it out. And then she did something completely unexpected. She looked up at him and plastered on a sickly sweet smile. Startled, his mouth opened a little and he blinked at her in confusion.

Turning into the new bedroom, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and said in a falsely cheery voice, "It's almost as beautiful as a Hilton! My, my, you're decorating skills are to _die_ for!"

Syndrome blinked several more times, and had to resist bursting into laughter. He had laughed before because it had been directed at her, but laughing because he found her funny was not an option. In fact, it annoyed him. He wasn't going to be finding his prisoner funny in any way.

He turned away and schooled his voice to be stern and cold. "Get used to it. You're going to be here for a _long_ time kid."

"I'm not a kid," she called, still using that sugary fake voice.

Syndrome didn't even look back as he walked away.

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Violet let the fake smile slip from her lips as she heard his retreating footsteps. Letting out a sigh, she sunk down onto the bed, sitting on the edge and wrapping her arms around her legs. Dropping her chin down onto one of her upraised knees, she let her eyes linger over the metal bracelet that held her captive in this place. After a moment of silence, she opened up her palm and tried to conjure a force field. 

The shock was much smaller than the one when she'd tried to jump at him, but it was enough to ruin her concentration and make her gasp in pain and close her eyes tightly. Dropping her hands back to her legs, Violet let out a very long breath, and let the frustration, anger, and fear wash off of her. Her mind turned over to his expression when she'd smiled at him.

For some reason, as she stood in the hallway, she'd felt the irresistible urge to throw him off his guard, make this as uncomfortable as possible for him. He was enjoying himself too much, and she knew that in acting gloomy and angry, he was enjoying himself even more. So she'd smiled at him. She was pretty sure that he knew her little display had been utterly false. She'd made her voice extra sugary sweet, just for him. But the confusion she'd seen in his eyes, the surprise, had been enough to give her just a tiny ounce of satisfaction. To top it off, he'd seemed pissy when he'd left.

But now she was alone again. There were no windows in this place, so she didn't know if it was day or night. She didn't even know what time it was or what day. She thought about her family, hoping that they were okay and that Syndrome wasn't lying about them. Finally, her thoughts turned to her friends. She wondered if they'd notice her gone. Over the summer, she'd been seeing them less and less and spending more and more time at home, normally drawing of chatting on the computer in her room. Thinking of that, Violet frowned some more.

For a while now, she'd made friends with people online at a chat room. It was there that she had met some people who understood her a little more. Although those people had never seen her in person, and didn't even know her real name, they seemed to see her for who she really was. A girl who just wanted to be normal and find people who really cared about her.

Over the past few years, many of her friends had abandoned her. Too many times she'd had to run out on them, leave them hanging, or simply disappear, all to do super work. Sure, she enjoyed it, but her social life was taking it hard. So she'd turned online to find some people to talk to.

They didn't get angry when she had to leave, because it was only the internet, after all. After a while, she'd become close with one person in particular. They talked almost every night, sometimes for hours, about everything. At first, he'd seemed very leery and bitter, but after a few weeks, he'd loosened up and talked more openly. He knew her as _invsbleflowr_ and she knew him as _supergenius_.

In a way, she had half-fallen in love with the guy, as silly as it was. He was only words on a computer, but they were the most heartfelt words she'd ever known. He simply understood her. She didn't even know his real name, and still she waited anxiously every night to talk to him. She'd told him everything about her life without really revealing too much about it. Sighing, Violet brought up the image of his words, only a few nights ago.

_"You're one of the most interesting people I know, Flower. __It's hard to find people with interests and ideas like mine, and I'm really glad to have someone to talk to. Some people are too judgmental and don't understand. You have no idea how lonely it is to be alone all the time."_

_"Sometimes I feel alone, even in the middle of a large crowd."_

_"Well, I would see you."_

_"What if I were invisible?"_

_"Just because you're invisible doesn't mean you're not there. I'd find you, if I really wanted to."_

She wished she had a computer now. When she talked to him, there was nothing else in the world. He always seemed to understand. Above that, he'd been talking about a big event for weeks, that that was supposed to be this week. He'd think she'd forgotten about him, or abandoned him. It made her sad and a little angry, but she pushed it away and opened her eyes.

_Come on, already told __myself__ not to mope._ Violet sighed and pushed herself up. _Time to explore this place._ Violet pulled her hair back and out of her face, securing it with a hair tie that she'd been surprised to find still on her wrist. There was no door for the room, but she wasn't overly surprised about that. The more he could watch her, he must think, the better.

The bathroom was not far from her room, and also very small. It had a single toilet, a shower, and a sink. There was no mirror, and the towels were white and sterile looking. Thankfully it had a door. _Well, at least I won't go without a shower for however long he intends to keep me here…_

She left the bathroom to keep on wandering. She was developing a mental map of what Syndrome's "lair" looked like, and it mostly comprised on a single hallway that seem to curve always in one smooth direction. If it kept up like this, it would curve all the way back to her room in a circle.

There were many doors in the hallway, all of which seemed to be on the outside wall. A few were cracked open, most were closed. Violet's curiosity overcame her when she came to the first of these slightly cracked open doors. Glancing around quickly, she reached out with her left hand to push the door back. Her fingers had just past the threshold when a bone numbing jolt overcame her senses. Her nerves screamed out and she dropped to the floor, curling up in a ball and gasping to keep from yelling. She kept her left hand against her belly, biting her lip hard. Her fingertips were numb.

It was close to five minutes before she could slowly uncurl from the fetal position. This shock was as bad as the one when she'd approached him, but there was no one watching her now. It was hurt to get up so quick after being shocked then, but he'd been watching her, and she hadn't wanted to feel weak. Luckily, Syndrome must be busy with whatever it is a villain did, because no one showed up.

Pushing her trembling body up to a crouch position, she glanced at the door. It was opened a little bit wider, but not enough for her to see anything. It was dark, and the light from the hallway did little to illuminate what was inside.

Ignoring the slight tingling in her muscles, Violet stood up and continued on her exploration of the lair, much more cautious as to how close she got to the doors.

She found the kitchen next, not far from the bathroom and her room. It was well stocked as far as appliances go, but as she investigated further, (pausing at the door to make sure she wasn't shocked again), Violet found that it was very much empty of food. Or at least, anything really edible. Obviously he'd stocked up when he'd first moved in, and hadn't done it since. Most of the food she found was past expiration and was growing a community of nastiness.

Making a face of disgust, Violet stepped out of the kitchen, making a mental note to annoy Syndrome some more about food. Although she was hungry, she wasn't ready to give up exploring just yet.

When she at last came to a room with the door mostly open, Violet slowed warily. Not only was it the only door that she'd found on the inside wall, but she could also hear sounds coming from it. She could hear small clicks from inside, and the rustle of movement. Moving slowly, she peered around the corner, careful to stay far enough away from the actual door.

It was a large round room. She figured it took up the entire center of the hallway. Her eyes darted over the many machinery and lights, and settled down to the man sitting in a large computer chair halfway across the room at a large computer, typing away.

Syndrome looked completely at home. His face was relaxed, his body was relaxed. He seemed to be concentrating and interested in what he was doing, but as Violet could only see his profile, she was unable to see what was happening on the actual screen. She watched his face, crouching at the doorway. She watched the expressions that changed his eyes and his eyebrows. He seemed interested at first, almost hopeful, but then a frown flit across his face. He looked frustrated for a moment, but let out a sigh and leaned back, staring at the screen with an impassive face. Then he sat forward again, and Violet decided it was time to go.

Being as quiet as she could, she slipped past the door. It wasn't long before she came to her own room again, which means she was right about the hallway being a circle, but also meant that she hadn't found a way out at all. Any of those doors could lead to the way out, and trying them all would kill her. Growling a little, she leaned against her doorway and stared at the little bed.

_Now what?_

And because she felt tired, despite her hunger, Violet moved to the bed and lay down, keeping her back to the door. There was nothing left to do right now. Her heart was heavy with despair, and she didn't feel like pretending it wasn't there. Curling her legs up close to her body, Violet closed her eyes and pulled the blanket over her in a small amount of protection and warmth. Before she let herself succumb to sleep, she whispered softly, "I'm sorry Genius…"

* * *

A/N- Hey everyone! . I hope you like this. Let me know if you do, because it really encourages me to continue writting. Also, let me know if something seems off to you . I love help on my stories. 


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

_i__nvsbleflowr__: offline_

Again.

Syndrome let out a growl of frustration and sat back in his chair, narrowing his icy blue eyes on the glowing computer screen. They then flickered down to the small clock on the bottom of the screen, ascertaining that it was indeed eight pm, the appropriate time that she should be on. The time she should have been on yesterday. And the day before. She has been missing for almost a week.

How could he have let himself become so attached to someone? The only person he'd allowed himself to hold affection for was the woman who had taken him in, Ingrid. He didn't allow himself to see her, knowing the danger and trouble she would be in if anyone knew who she had nursed back to health, but he regularly sent her money and nothing else. He didn't allow her to know where the money was coming from, but she probably knew. After he'd left her, he'd kept himself in his lair, embracing the solitude.

But he'd gotten lonely. He realized how much he'd counted on people to keep him company, even if they didn't like him and he didn't particularly like them. Used to having them around, as prisoners or as his minions, they had given him a sense of comfort without him even realizing it. Mirage had been a brief comfort, but he'd been stupid, unable to appreciate or understand what she had been offering him. He'd never really been this alone in a long time. So he'd gone online, to a chat room, looking for someone to talk to.

They'd all been idiots, unable to hold a conversation. He'd almost quit until he'd met her. She could actually spell correctly, and use proper grammar. When they talked, her called her flower. She'd been smart, and she'd been lonely too. Two years now, they'd been talking, Syndrome realized. He stared at the computer screen without really looking at it. He'd spilled his life to her without even telling her his name. She knew as much about him as anyone could without really knowing what he did or who he was known as. And he'd learned much about her, without really knowing much at all. He didn't know her name, or her true life, but he knew her. He knew her as a person, knew the real her. And until now, he hadn't realized how much he'd relied on her to free him from his loneliness, to give him a reprieve from his life. He'd relied on her to show his true self. He didn't have to pretend to be a nasty villain. She'd accepted him without payment.

Syndrome brought his fist down on the desk, letting out an angry growl. "Stop being weak, Buddy. You are a villain. You have a prisoner. You want revenge." Closing his eyes, he let out a breath. But after that…he was done. He was going to leave this place, return to his island, and live a life of solitude. Ingrid had touched a part of him that he'd left buried away from a long time ago. He'd come to realize that to be a hero, one didn't need to be a super, one didn't need to wear a cape of have special abilities, or even to same mass amounts of people from villains. Ingrid had been a hero simply by helping him. He'd done a lot of reflection on his life, after he'd realized who he was. Reflections of what was important to him in his life.

However…he could not let go of what Mr. Impossible did to him. He could not let go of the anger and the rage that came with the thought of that man. He would have his revenge, but it would harm no one but Mr. Incredible. He would teach the man a lesson. He would do it without harming anyone seriously. And then he would be able to let go, or so he hoped. He wanted to leave, to start a new life.

He would be neither a villain nor a hero. He would simply disappear and live his life, wherever it is he started over, he would try and keep Ingrid in mind.

Dragging his fingers through his fiery hair, Syndrome opened up another window to check on his prisoner, which was bound to make him feel better. He felt too mushy and emotional. Sure, his plan was to give up being ruthless and evil, but that didn't mean he liked being nice and fluffy to people. He wasn't going to hurt Violet seriously, but her anger appealed to his twisted sense of humor.

He scanned through the various monitors that came up, searching for the one with Violet Parr. Although she'd stopped sulking, she'd become angry and entertaining. He found her in the kitchen, and her posture was strangely relaxed.

"What is that girl making…" he wondered aloud, leaning forward in his chair as he maximized the screen and turned up the volume. The sound of humming came to his ear, and he frowned. Humming? The damn girl was freaking humming? She was a prisoner, and she was humming as she made what appeared to be chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.

Syndrome shook his head in wonderment over the new development in her attitude. Just yesterday, she had been pacing her room like an angry wild cat, glaring at the walls.

Now that he thought about it, however, she had been odd this morning as well. And as this morning came to memory his cheeks heated in embarrassment, much to his irritation. The embarrassment made him angry at himself.

This morning, while wanting to check in on his prisoner, he's accidentally zoomed in on her showering.

Right into the shower stall.

In all her nakedness.

And as soon as he'd been able to tell what was going on through all of the steam, she'd glanced up at the moving camera. But did she get all pissed and hit the camera? Or even leave?

No…

She's smiled sweetly, waved, and continued on with her shower. Like an idiot, he'd stared at her in shock, which entailed staring at her naked body. Violet Parr was just 19, and though she as slender and looked much younger, when she was naked, she clearly looked like a young woman. A fully developed young woman. When he'd finally realized what he was doing, he'd shut off the monitor before he couldn't even think.

But dammit, it wasn't seeing her naked that pissed him off and made him embarrassed. He'd seen naked women before. It was that he, Syndrome, sworn enemy of her father, emotionless bastard, had gotten aroused. Like he was a teenager or something. Syndrome rubbed his face with his large hands, hoping to scrub off the ridiculous blush. Damn him for being a red head and susceptible to displaying his emotions like a freaking radar system.

Thinking back now, however, she had smiled. Why was she so cheery today when yesterday she'd been mad and sullen. It unnerved him a little, and his eyes strayed back to the monitor before him. He noticed, with a frown, that the number of grilled cheeses that she was making were enough for two people. And she had two cans of soup out.

He scrubbed his still red cheeks and glared at the monitor. She had smiled at him in the shower, and now she was making him lunch. Unless she ate enough for two people, which he highly doubted. So far, she'd eaten very little, and he'd been worried that he would have to knock her out and force feed her a little to keep her from getting ill. And now she was making a lunch feast.

"Stupid girl," he muttered, and turned off the monitor. Did she think she would sweeten him up to let her free? She could dream on. His eyes hardened and he pushed up from his desk. It was time to get some fresh air for a while and run a few errands. He'd been here long enough to make the Parrs sweat and twitch like anxious pigs. She would be fine for a few hours. Apart from the errands, he needed to escape this place for a little bit. He was becoming an emotional baby, first with that brat online, and now with this prisoner. Shaking his head in disgust, Syndrome turned away from his master computers, and marched out the door.

--------------------------------------------------------

_Finally!_

He grinned and leaned forward, wincing from stiffness. _Finally he left the stupid lair of his._ The man rubbed his hands together and watched the red dot appear on the screen. Elation filled his veins with adrenaline after many days of dissatisfactions. After the girl was nabbed, he'd been too busy fighting the supers to get to the tracking device on time. He'd only managed to pinpoint what city Syndrome was in before he'd gone into that lair of his, where the device couldn't track to.

And now he knew the location of his lair. Scrambling for a piece of paper and a pen, the man scribbled down the address of the blinking red dot. With a happy laugh, he pushed himself up and bolted out the door.

---------------------------------------------------------

Violet smirked to herself and whistled a little as she sat down at the table to eat. So far, so good.

That morning, Violet had woken to a sudden idea. On the few occasions that she'd seen Syndrome since her little visit here, she'd been querulous, rebellious, and angry. And he'd smiled in his smug little way. So she'd decided to start smiling back. Her intent: scare him with sweetness.

Yesterday had been the worse day yet. She'd stupidly clung to a hope up until last night. The hope that maybe Genius would save her. It really was stupid. Why not her father, or another super? She'd somehow dismissed them as unable to, and instead thought of Genius. He'd said he could always find her, if he wanted to. That she would never be invisible to him. Not that he understood when she said invisible, as he didn't know she was a super, but she still had confidence in him. He had become her best friend, and she'd come to love him, in a way. As much as you could love a man you know only in words. And for some reason, she felt that he could save her. And then she'd started to think he would. After all, he had always been there for her before. When she'd hid from everyone, even her parents, he'd known her.

Yesterday, she'd been able to admit that he couldn't find her. That he wasn't. He had no idea. It had hurt, letting go of her hope of the one person she'd always relied on. It had made her weak and pathetic all day. But before she'd fallen asleep, she'd felt this great sense of peace come over her. She'd come to accept that he wasn't going to save her because he didn't know, didn't understand this part of her life. But that if he did, if he could, he would.

And as she'd woken up, she'd decided to stop moping, and do something about her captivity. And then the idea struck. Kill him with niceness.

Her first chance hit when she'd been in the shower, which had made it very difficult. She'd wanted to scream and rip the camera off the wall. She'd been so embarrassed and mad, but she'd controlled it. She'd managed to smile as sweet as possible and continue showering. Her skin still tingled from the idea that someone had watched her shower.

Now she'd made him lunch. She'd made her grilled cheese and soup for two, and set two places at the small kitchen table. She highly doubted that he would join her, but she was sure that he would notice. She wasn't very good at cooking, but she enjoyed it, which helped lighten her mood enough to let her hum.

Violet pulled her hair away from her face and picked up the grilled cheese sandwich. It was halfway to her mouth when a movement outside the kitchen caught her eye. Mumbling to himself with a dark expression clouding his face, Syndrome stalked by. He barely glanced into the kitchen, and Violet was almost certain he'd shot her an accusing glare before he'd disappeared. Two seconds later, she heard a slamming of a nearby door, and then silence.

Violet sat still for a moment, blinking at the now empty hallway. He'd never left through that door before. And he'd seemed a little miffed. With a small smile, Violet brought the sandwich the rest of the way to her mouth and took a big bite, feeling warm satisfaction spreading through her belly, and it was from more than just the food.

For some reason, she had a feeling he was miffed because of her. And that made her happy. Maybe her sweet routine was already working, which was faster than she'd expected. Smiling happily, she finished her meal, relishing every bite.

-------------------------------------------------

Many hours later, and Syndrome hadn't returned. By now, Violet found herself stalking Syndrome's computer room, contemplating the pros and cons of trying to see what was in there and whether she could reach anything without moving the bracelet within the doorframe.

The thought had come to her two hours after he had left. Violet had assumed he would return shortly, not wanting to leave his precious prisoner alone, but when the two hours had come and gone without his return, she'd begun thinking of the things she should take advantage of in his absence. Number one of her list had been his central hub. The only times she'd seen Syndrome had been either in the room, or on the way to or from it.

Therefore, it must be important. It was also located in the direct center of his lair, which made it the focal point. There had to be something important in there.

She wasn't going to cause herself undue pain by going all the way in, but she'd decided not to hesitate. If he returned, he returned. She would deal with that pain later. At the moment, she had to get as much of her body in the room as possible without bringing the bracelet through the doorway.

There was a light switch right next to the door, flooding the room with a pale and steady glow as her eyes slowly swept the area. The room was round, as expected, with several monitors of different sizes. On the counters were various gadgets and tools. He must spend a lot of his time tinkering with things.

Violet turned her eyes to the only chair in the room. The office chair was situated in front of a laptop. The screen was on, and there were open windows on the desktop. She was too far away to read it from where she stood in the doorway, but luckily, the chair and the desk were not completely out of her range.

Carefully keeping her wrist outside of the room, Violet began to inch her way towards the desk. She moved slowly, in case the bracelet would be set off by being dear the door. As this was his most important room, she assumed the pain would be great if she were to allow the bracelet in.

Finally, she was stretched to her limit, with the bracelet barely outside of the door. She couldn't quite reach the desk, but she could use something nearby to get the laptop off the desk. Her eyes strayed to the computer again. It must be his personal computer, and therefore his most important. Feeling buoyant and gleeful with her victory, Violet leaned forward a little more to read the screen.

What she saw made her heart stop. It made her heart squeeze painfully. It felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest. Her eyes widened as her mind let out a wail of anguish.

On the desktop of Syndrome's laptop was an open messenger window of the particular messaging system that Violet used. Where her messenger normally said _Welcome,_ _i__nvsbleflowr_, his said _Welcome, __supergenius_

He was Genius.

Syndrome was Genius. He trusted friend.

A sound of betrayal escaped her lips as Violet's knees became weak, and her body trembled with the anger and hurt. Her world became unsteady with the suddenness of a speeding bullet smacking into her chest.

He'd been using her, lying to her, all this time. Just to kidnap her and get his revenge. All this time, she'd been trusting him…

Violet took a step back, trying to control her breathing. Tears stung at her eyes, and her stomach clenched painfully, sending a wave of nausea through her system. She was going to throw up. Her free hand flew up to her mouth, covering her lips as a small sob escaped. "How can he do this…how evil do you have to be to…" _to betray me like this…to take my heart and rip it out. _

Violet's eyes flew away from his screen name on the computer, and to the other window that was open. Her breath caught, and her world stilled as suddenly as it had been upset. She swayed with the shock and the complete stillness that filled her.

Her eyes skimmed the words again, disbelieve filling her chest with cold air. Her heart beat once, twice. Her mind scrambled to understand what this meant.

_supergenius__: where are you flower? You've been gone a long time. You better be alright. If you don't get on soon, I'm going to have to find you._

He didn't know…that she was invsbleflowr. He didn't know who she was. He was…being authentic when he talked to her. He was being himself.

Syndrome…was Genius. He was her Genius.

Violet stumbled back, out of the room. She kept going until her back hit the wall, and she pressed against it, clinging to it, struggling to understand.

The villain who had tried to destroy her family was also the man who had become her closest friend. The villain who had tried to destroy her family was a man she'd come to love and yearn for.

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a/n: Thanks for being patient!! This is my first year at college and I'm so busy all the time!!! Please leave me a comment if you like it, it encourages me to continue!!! I hope you like .


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4**_

Syndrome closed the door behind him, popping the last bit of sandwich into his mouth. Licking his fingers, he turned in the direction of the kitchen and began sauntering down the hallway, feeling satisfied and back to his normal self. He only made it three steps before he heard a low thump in the opposite direction.

Frowning, Syndrome switched directions and quickened his pace. As he came around the hallway, he saw his prisoner pressed against the wall opposite of the door to his central room. His eyes flickered from the opened door to her shocked expression. She was so pale, she was almost translucent. As he watched, she slid down to the ground, staring at blank space, as if lost in a daze.

Perking a brow, Syndrome stepped closer, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head to the side in consideration. She must have tried to get inside. She _looked_ shocked, but her attitude was different from the other times she'd been shocked. The power of this door was similar to the other door she'd tried in the hallway, and so she should have recovered enough to stand by now. She also didn't appear to be in pain, simply…shocked. Perhaps her ability to deal with the electricity had changed.

"I told you it was useless to try and use any door not permitted to you," Syndrome drawled, his features slipping into a frown. "It's stupid of you to try. You'll only hurt yourself unnecessarily."

Violet's eyes jumped to his so fast, and widened so large, that she must not have noticed him before, which was strange in that she'd been very sharp and attentive, even when in pain. Something was definitely going on with her. Syndrome felt his confusion rise when her expression, upon registering who he was, became confused and painful. Had the pain been delayed until now? That didn't make sense…

"Parr?" Syndrome dropped his arms and leaned down a little to get a closer look at her. The pupils of her eyes were dilated, he could see her pulse fluttering at her neck, and her skin was losing even more color. When she didn't respond, he crouched down in front of her and reached out to wave his hand in front of her face. "Violet? What's wrong with you?"

"You…" Her voice cracked, and her hand came up to her throat. To his great alarm, tears brightened her eyes.

"What the hell is wrong?" Syndrome felt a little alarmed. This was not the Violet Parr that he'd kidnapped. She was losing it. He didn't know how to deal with crying. She was a tough brat that gave as much as she took. Violet Parr did not cry.

* * *

Violet stared at Syndrome, and saw him in a whole new light. A confusing and painful light. How could this face be the face of Genius? She'd spent night after night, trying to imagine what Genius really looked like, and it wasn't like this. How could Genius's words come from the face of her childhood nightmares? 

Violet shook her head, feeling tears come on. Her emotions had hit the fan, and now were going haywire. Everything from the past week hadn't made her crack, but this had broken her strength, and it was all rushing out like a pent up dam. She couldn't deal with this. Being kidnapped? No problem. Being shocked by electricity? No problem. Dealing with an old villain of her past? No problem. Finding out said villain is the virtual man she'd been falling in love with for a few years? Problem.

"How can…this be?" She whispered in a broken voice, pushing herself up, trying to scramble back. She had to escape this. She had to be alone. She needed to think, to figure this out. She needed to forget. She needed…

As she stood, dizziness overtook her. Nausea made her stomach roll. At first, she thought it must be a physical reaction to her emotions, but then white spots filled her vision, and her balance was suddenly unstable, and pains started in her stomach. She didn't get farther than two scrambled steps away from Syndrome before her world went black.

* * *

"Shit…" Syndrome lunged forward and barely managed to slip his hand under her head as Violet crumpled to the ground. Swearing under his breath, he slipped his other arm under her knees and lifted her up. She weighed next to nothing and her skin was clammy. He hadn't moved far towards her room before she stirred in his arms. 

Syndrome glanced down with a frown, opening his mouth to say something, but her body suddenly squirmed violently, her arms and legs thrashing wildly. Letting out another string of curses, he was forced to crouch down and set her on the ground, with the intent of restraining her. The moment she was on the flat surface, however, her body convulsed and she flipped over onto her hands and knees, and retched over the ground.

Syndrome stared, wide eyed. Out of reflex, he reached forward and pulled her hair out of the way and slid his other arm under her stomach to support her. She was trembling like a leaf. When she was finished, she collapsed against him and moaned, curling up around her stomach.

Staring at her, Syndrome didn't know what to do. Should he leave her? She was his prisoner. She was Mr. Incredible's daughter. He was a cold-hearted bastard, and he didn't care if she was sick and throwing up her guts.

Another pitiful moan pulled him from his thoughts and into a flashback to when Ingrid had cared for him. He'd been sick like this, and she'd cared for him tirelessly. He hadn't known who he was at the time, only that this little old woman was taking care of him when he felt like his insides were trying to jump out of his throat.

And he knew what it was like to be sick without Ingrid…to be sick alone.

Syndrome shook his head sharply to scatter darker memories, and scooped her up in his arms decidedly. He moved down the hall more quickly now. His expression was a mask of stoic determination. Casting her mostly hidden face a brief glance, set his jaw, and told himself that he wasn't going soft, he was just being reasonable.

* * *

The letter didn't come by mail this time. It was delivered by a little girl in the late afternoon. When she was questioned, she told the NSA that a man had asked her to deliver it. When asked to describe the man, she'd told them that she couldn't see his face, as he'd been wearing a hood. All she could tell them was that he was tall, and that he was broad. She also said that he was polite and very nice to her. 

Bob had answered the door, and Helen called NSA when the little girl, whom both knew as Lucy who lived a few blocks away, said that the letter was about Violet. Although they'd been told to wait, the couple invited Lucy inside and immediately opened the letter.

_She'__s alive, __and will stay that way on one condition. Mr. Incredible, Robert Parr, must give up Super Duty. I will be watching…I will know. When__ I see fit, she will be returned alive._

Just as the first letter, there was a small image of Violet. She was curled up in pain, holding her writs to her stomach. It was the image of her first attempt through the door. She had no mask, though she did wear her super-suit.

Helen looked up from the letter and stared at her husband. "Oh Bob…" she whispered, lifting her hand to lightly grip his shoulder.

Robert Parr continued to stare at the piece of paper in silence as a disbelieving silence filled the room, and the paper under Mr. Incredible's fingers crumpled to dust…

* * *

Violet woke up feeling like a husk. She felt empty, brittle, and weak. For a moment, she didn't move, but simply lay there and _felt_ her body. Her eyes remained half closed, and her fingers moved stiffly to touch her own face, her dried and cracked lips, and her sore throat. She was curled up in a ball, under a light sheet. Her hand moved away from her face and down to the mattress that she lay on, surprised to find that it was soft. 

She remembered being sick. Very sick. She remembered throwing up many times, first in the hallway, and then, more hazily, in a bathtub. If it wasn't for her sore throat and empty stomach, she would have thought it to be a dream. She hadn't been throwing up alone. Syndrome had been there, holding her hair and cleaning away her throw-up. The memories were vague and blurry, but it was hard to miss the flaming orange hair.

The idea of Syndrome being nice brought back the other memories. The one's she'd forgotten in her retching. Syndrome and Genius. The same man. She winced, curling up tighter. How could this be…? Her mind, slow from sleep, tried to comprehend the meaning behind it.

The man who knew all of her secrets, who knew her heart better than anyone, who knew her desires better than anyone, was also her kidnapper. The man whom she'd spend hours talking to about philosophy and life was a villain. The man who'd made her laugh and smile was Syndrome.

Syndrome was her Genius.

Suddenly, so many things became so much clearer. He'd spoken of how he'd been bad before, of how he was capable of being evil, despite her insistence that he was a good person. Whenever she mentioned Mr. Incredible, not as her father but as a well known individual in society, he'd always become quiet and snippy. He told her that he "made things" for a living, which really was the same as inventing things. He'd told her, the night before being kidnapped, that he wouldn't be on the following night because he had something to take care of.

But he'd told her other things as well…

He'd told her that he'd been jaded as a boy. How he'd had a horrible childhood, and that his teens hadn't fared well either. He'd never given details, which was normal, as both of them were always vague with their own lives. But from his vague accounts, Violet had deduced abuse, physical and mental. He also talked about a point in his life that had been very important. He always spoke of it as the point where he'd truly understood the meaning of the world. He said it was when he'd come out of the darkness and seen the truth.

Was he lying? Why would he lie to some nameless person on the internet? If he had "come out of the darkness," then why was she being held in his lair? It didn't make sense…

Then she remembered a conversation she'd had with Genius a long time ago. The subject had been on personal weaknesses. When she'd asked him what he considered to be his own personal downfall, he'd replied that it was his inability to let go of certain things.

Could it be that he still had a grudge against her father?

Violet shook her head and curled up tighter in an attempt to scatter her thoughts. She didn't want to deal with this right now. She didn't want to deal with this period. Letting out a groan, she forced her eyes open to concentrate on other things, such as her current location.

She was in an unfamiliar room. It was a bedroom, a real one. The bed that she lay on was raised above the ground, and the mattress was firm but comfortable. There were two bedside tables, and a dresser. It was rather plain, but very clean. She might have thought it to be a guest room, but there were articles on the dresser, specifically a watch and a few trinkets.

"You shouldn't move around too much. You're stomach seems to have settled, but it may change its mind."

Violet looked up sharply, turning towards the door she hadn't noticed yet, and found Syndrome standing in it. He held a glass of clear liquid in one hand and a package of saltines in the other. The sight of the food made her stomach clench unpleasantly.

He stayed where he was, staring at her with emotionless eyes and a straight face. He seemed to be waiting for her reaction. Her throat was having difficulties at the moment, and her eyes moved on their own, taking him in with a new mindset. She noted his height, his broad shoulders, his strong jaw, the nose that was a little too small for his face, his deep and masked eyes, and his fiery hair. As her mind blanked with the knowledge that Syndrome was her closest correspondence and her family's enemy, she was able to look at him simply as a man, as a person. It was a strange sensation, one that did not last as long as she might like. During her long pause, he took a step forward and frowned.

"Violet?"

Violet blinked, caught off guard by his voice saying her name. "Where am I?" she asked, hardening her voice and sitting up higher. This was Syndrome she was talking to. The man who had kidnapped her and tried to kill her family many years earlier. She couldn't think about him as Genius right now.

"You're in my bedroom. I wasn't about deal with you on your mattress. My back doesn't need the extra straining, thanks." He moved closer to her now, walking around queen-sized bed to where she sat.

Violet was unnerved and surprised that he would give her his bed while she'd been sick. It seemed completely uncharacteristic of him, and it made her suspicious. Is it possible he'd planted the IM so that she would find it? Did he want her thinking he was really a nice person, and then trick her? Why was he being nice now? She watched him warily as he stopped at the edge of the bed and offered her the glass of what she assumed to be water.

"Drink the water. Slowly. You're recovering from acute food poisoning. I'm guessing you were shocked when you attempted to enter my central room, and the adrenaline your body was pumping through you sped the digestion process, which quickened your food poisoning. I tested the food you'd eaten yesterday, and found that the cheese you'd used to make the sandwiches was not quite right." He spoke in a very matter of fact tone, and regarded her with an expression that almost made her laugh, it was so stuffy.

She parted her lips to inform him that she had not, in fact, been shocked. But that would require her to tell him when she'd actually been hyperventilating. She wasn't sure if she wanted him to know who she was. Her mind was still scrambling over the impossibilities of Genius' true identity.

"Thank you," she responded instead, and took the glass from his hands. She sipped at it cautiously as her eyes zeroed in on the saltines. "I don't think I can eat those…" she informed him slowly, moving her doubtful gaze from the crackers to his face.

"Well, you're going to have to, eventually. It's about all your stomach can handle for a while. Unless you want me to connect you to a tube, you need to eat something." Syndrome set the crackers down on the table, and turned to leave. Violet cast him a startled gaze as she realized that he was taking care of her. She'd been sick…she remembered throwing up, and he'd taken care of her. He had given her his own bed, which was certainly unnecessary, had cleaned her up, had…

Violet glanced down, and felt her stomach drop out from under her. She was not wearing her super suit. She was wearing a very large white button-up shirt. Her skin bloomed red, and a mixture of anger and embarrassment surged through her. He'd taken her clothes off.

"You—"

"You're suit was dirty. I'm sure you can understand that throwing up is not the most exact art. I think it was the more decent thing to do." Syndrome cut her off, staring at her from the end of the bed. Violet stared at him with her mouth hanging open as words failed her. Despite his cool words, however, she noted that his skin was flaring up in red.

She saw his jaw clench and his finger tighten in self-consciousness, obviously aware of his flaming face. He turned abruptly for the door. He was gone before she could gather her wits about her. Violet was left to sit in the bed with too much on her mind and an image of an embarrassed Syndrome to contend with.

* * *

Syndrome leaned against the sink and stared at his reflection. His traitorous face was as red as a tomato. He cursed under his breath and turned on the cold water, splashing it over his hot skin. 

He'd seen it the moment she realized that she was no longer wearing the clothes she'd been wearing yesterday. She couldn't blame him, really. She'd been filthy, and she'd smelled. It had seemed only natural to get her out of those clothes and put her in something clean. Besides, he wasn't going to put her in his bed with those filthy clothes on. It was only when she was down to her bra and underwear that he had slipped out of his caretaker state of mind. Much to his annoyance and chagrin, he'd become very aware of his proximity to her very beautiful body. He'd barely managed to get his shirt, the only garment he could find for her, on her body and into the bed. He felt like a clumsy oaf the whole time. Then he'd felt strange at having her in his bed. The idea gave him goose bumps, and he'd been forced to leave the room for a while.

Scrubbing his face dry with a towel, Syndrome left the small bathroom that she'd been using and headed for his central hub. Falling back into his comfortable chair, he stared at the computer screen in front of him without actually seeing it.

Syndrome had come to the acceptance that he was done being a villain. He understood that not being a Super didn't mean he couldn't be a hero, if he wanted to. But he'd also come to the conclusion that society was not for him. He was going to finish this little act of revenge, and move back to his island. He would go into isolationism, where he belonged. It would be better that way for everyone. Mr. Incredible would get what he deserved, and Syndrome would be able to live the rest of his life out without anyone being the wiser.

But he hadn't counted on becoming emotional or soft with his prisoner. Violet was making him feel things he hadn't been expecting. It was making him second-guess his want to seclude himself on an island and never be with people. It was making him yearn to be normal. To laugh and cry and spend time with people, like a normal person. He'd seen Violet's face as he left. It had been shocked, confused, and for some strange reason, hopeful. She had been looking at him, really him. As a person, not as a villain. He wanted more of that, to be a person.

Memories interrupted his thoughts, coming out of the depths of his mind, memories from a long time ago. Dark memories of pain and distortion. Syndrome's eyes darkened, and he clenched his fists. Letting out a low breath, he dropped his head a little and closed his eyes. He wasn't a normal person, and he never would be. It would be foolish to get his hopes up when there was no hope so someone like him.

* * *

Violet sat for a long time, staring at the door that he had disappeared behind. As much as she might like to think otherwise, there was no way he could fake that kind of embarrassment. You can't fake a blush like that. 

Her mind felt like a ping-pong table. Her thoughts were bouncing back and forth between the hope that Syndrome was really a good guy, beneath all of his villainous exterior, and absolute conviction that he couldn't possibly change. He had been bad, he'd kidnapped her, he'd tried to kill them! There's no way he could have a heart.

But then she realized what she was doing. She was judging him based on the little outside information that she knew about him. It was one of her many pet-peeves. She hated people who judged others without getting to know that person. It was the main reason she had next to no friends. Everyone assumed she was an unreliable friend who was just as sure to miss an important birthday as to not show up when asked for a school project. If they knew it was because she was saving lives, they might not hate her so much.

Popping another cracker into her mouth, Violet made a decision. She'd already decided to be as sugary sweet as possible in hopes to annoy him. She was a prisoner, and he had given her an amount of freedom where she suspected he didn't really care what she did. If she was going to be here until he let her go, as she had the feeling he wasn't really going to hurt her, she might as well get to know him. And even if he intended to kill her or hurt her, this was perhaps the best way to go about being a prisoner.

It was the logical thing to do. She just found out he was Genius, and he could possibly really act and think like Genius seemed to. She was trapped in a "building" with him for however long he deemed. She wasn't aware of what he was doing to her family, but perhaps by getting to know him more, she could reveal that information.

Violet felt energy filling her veins as a clear path became available. It was a plan, and having a plan helped to calm her nerves and her stomach. It also filled her with a sense of determination. She may not be fully recovered from the food poisoning, but she felt able to get out of bed. His bed.

Violet blushed a little and finished off the water. Getting to her feet, she realized that she didn't have any pants on. She was still wearing her own bra and underwear, which made her feel a little bit better to his changing her clothes. But she couldn't really walk around without pants on. Looking around, he eyes fell on the dressers. She doubted he had other female clothes in the vicinity, so she'd just have to wear his pants.

Luckily, she found a pair of sweat pants that she could tie at the waist. Looking down at herself, it was obvious how much bigger he was than her. She was able to look at herself in the mirror of the bathroom she found that connected to the bedroom. She looked awful, but she didn't really care what Syndrome thought of her. She needed to figure out what she thought of him.

Still, as she turned to leave, she brushed her fingers through her hair, and pulled self-consciously at the shirt hem.

The door led to a small hallway, which had a door on one side that was locked when she tried it. Shrugging, she continued to the door at the other end of the hallway, and found herself back in the circular hallway that she was becoming very familiar with.

It didn't take her long to find Syndrome. At first, she didn't think he was in his central hub room, as the door was closed and it was very quiet inside. Keeping her bracelet hand back, she knocked on the door, and then tried the handle without waiting for an answer. It was unlocked, and swung open silently to reveal Syndrome, sitting in his chair with his head down. The air around him was so lonely and sad that she paused in her thoughts and her movements in a sort of wonder.

Then he looked up, and a mask of indifference slipped over his features. "Can I help you, Parr?"

Violet resisted the urge to smile. She noticed that he called her Parr whenever he was trying to be haughty. She wanted to make him call her Violet again. He seemed to be more _real_ when he called her Violet.

"Why did you take care of me?" she asked, standing just outside the doorway.

A flicker of surprise moved over his face, before it was once more conceal under his mask. "I couldn't let my prisoner die before I was ready for you to die."

"I wasn't going to die from food poisoning. You could have let me throw up on my own. You didn't have to clean me up."

"I didn't want my lair smelling like puke, thank you."

"You could have made me clean it up when I was feeling better," she countered, and found that she was enjoying his floundering. She was only slightly surprised that he seemed to be coming up with excuses for his actions. Was he ashamed of doing something humane?

"I'm not that patient. Go away." He turned in his chair to face his computer, as if dismissing her.

"You did something nice to your prisoner, and you seem to be ashamed of it. Afraid I won't think of you as a proper villain?" Violet felt like her voice echoed off the walls of his little room.

Syndrome stiffened, and sat as still as a stone. She watched him curiously, waiting to see if she could push him to violence.

"Are you afraid that I wouldn't respect you if you were caught doing something good?" Violet pushed at the silence, leaning forward.

Syndrome turned around in his chair slowly. His face was dark and his fists were clenched. A tremor of unease and fear slivered down her spine as he pushed himself up and advanced towards her. Violet backed up a step when he came within two feet of her, looming above her. Clenching her own fists, she refused to back up anymore.

"You don't know what you're talking about, little girl." Violet managed not to wince when his hand came up and lightly touched her neck, sliding over her collar bone until his palm spanned her throat in a threatening manner. "I could kill you right now. You shouldn't push my limits."

Violet stood very still, her breath hitching, and stared up at him. His eyes glinted steel and his body emanated danger. He could pull her into the room and kill her with electrical shock. He could crush her windpipe.

But his hand, large enough almost to wrap around her neck, was surprisingly gentle. Her fear and tension slowly eased away, and her eyes continued to stare up into his as they stood in a stale mate. On the heels of her retreating fear, a strange excitement slipped into her stomach and set butterflies brushing her insides. Her eyes widened, and heat fanned out over her cheeks. Confused at this bewildering feeling that spiraled through her, Violet tilted her head back and sucked in a breath.

Something flickered in Syndrome's eyes, and his fingers tightened a fraction. Tension arose between them like electricity, and Violet stopped breathing when he leaned in a little, unfathomable shadows passing over his features.

Violet panicked. The unexpected heat that vibrated through her body was overwhelming and frightening. The realization of the unexpected and completely nonviolent tension between them was too much. Her hands flew up and gripped his wrist desperately as she sputtered the first thing to come to mind.

"What's your favorite color?"

Syndrome's head jerked back, and his fingers loosened as surprise flashed over his face. Taken off guard, Violet stumbled back, her knees giving out as the energy left her body. She sat down abruptly, blinking up at him with her mouth open.

Syndrome stared at her for a moment, and then seemed to shake himself back to reality. His eyes hardened and his face smoothed out. Taking a step back, he gripped the door in a tight fist. "Black, like my heart," he whispered harshly.

Violet found herself staring at a closed door a foot from her face.

* * *

A/N- I'm so glad I got this one out . College is such a pain!! But I hope you liked this chapter!! I have so many devious ideas for them, you just wait! Please leave a review, it encourages me to update. Less reviews means less of a chance I will be motivated to write! Thank you! 


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5**_

Syndrome stood with his forehead pressed against the door, his eyes closed and his hands tightened into fists at his sides. His breathing was hardly a whisper in the darkened room. In the silence, he could barely discern the sound of Violet picking herself up outside. His ears strained to hear her as she slowly moved away from the door. Twice she paused, before she moved too far away for him to hear the light tread of her bare feet.

_Idiot! Fool! What were you thinking? _Syndrome pushed off from the wall and stalked over to his chair, falling into it with enough force to make it groan in complaint. His face fell into his palms, and he could feel the heat coming off of his cheeks.

He'd almost kissed Violet Parr. Mr. Incredible's daughter. His _prisoner_.

How sick was that? He shouldn't be attracted to her. He shouldn't want to have her around.

But he never realized how lonely he'd become until Violet had arrived. He'd barely interacted with her, and still, he wanted more. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to talk to someone like a normal person, like a friend, until he'd been with Ingrid. And Violet…well, he'd never held someone like he'd had to hold Violet when taking care of her. She'd been warm and soft and so very little in his big hands. He'd been afraid of breaking her. The whole time, he'd told himself that it didn't matter if he did, she was his prisoner, but he couldn't bring himself to be rough with her.

And when he'd seen her eyes as he'd been trying to intimidate her…As he'd watched the fear give way to excitement, he'd been unable to help his reaction. He'd wanted her. Damn the circumstances and the consequences, he'd wanted to kiss her until she'd fainted.

As it turned out, he hadn't needed to kiss her. Drawn like a moth to the flame, he'd leaned in, and watched as panic entered her eyes. She'd practically fainted right there, and then she'd blurted out a question that snapped him back to reality.

_What's your favorite color?_

The question was a question that he'd had long discussions about. Flower had a strange fondness of the question, and they'd discuss color at great lengths. For a brief second, he'd been able to imagine Violet as his Flower, and the idea had sent a rush of butterflies through his stomach. Then he had panicked, fearing that he was becoming too attached to his prisoner. Wishing for her to understand and know him like Flower was a dangerous and stupid idea. He'd also felt guilty, as if he'd been betraying Flower in some way.

But now he was alone again. Just like before, a long time ago…

Syndrome shook his head and dismissed the train of thought, sitting up and tilting his face back to stare at the ceiling. He was being ridiculous. He felt like a sissy. Rubbing his face vigorously, he shoved the image of Violet from his mind and shot out of his chair and headed for the door, moving with a swift purpose. As he walked down the circular hallway, he didn't run into Violet, nor was she visible when he entered the small hallway that led to his room. Instead of going into his bedroom, however, he turned to the locked door on the side, and disappeared into its depths.

* * *

Three days passed quietly. Violet recovered within a day from their little encounter. It would take two more for her to work up the courage to go find him again and "dance with the devil," as she liked to call it. When she'd recovered from the shock, she'd come to the realization that she was truly intrigued by Syndrome. She was older now, and Syndrome was no longer as scary as he'd been when she'd been younger. Instead of looking at him solely as a villain, she was seeing him as a person, and now she was trying to fit him with Genius. 

Violet had always known that she was more sympathetic towards villains than her family. Now she was about to put that to the highest test. She was actually willing to admit and explore the idea that Syndrome may have become a good guy, despite the kidnapping, which didn't seem to fit.

Taking a deep breath, she ventured out of her little room, which she returned to using after their faceoff. Although she'd been avoiding talking to him, she'd become very aware of his whereabouts in the past two days. Instead of staying in his central room, he had now reverted to hiding out in the secret locked room in the hallway to his bedroom. She'd seen him enter it from the outer hallway, but the outer door had closed too fast for her to see what was inside.

Hopefully, she would find out now. Squaring her shoulders, Violet entered the small hallway to his bedroom, and stopped in front of the secret door. There, she hesitated, and looked down at herself self-consciously, rethinking whether or not she'd made the right choice in her clothing. Instead of wearing her super suit, which she'd found freshly cleaned in her room the morning after their faceoff, she had put on his shirt and sweatpants. He'd seemed flustered by her wearing it, and she wanted him to be flustered, to be real. But she'd also found that she was also flustered when she wore his clothes. It seems…very intimate.

_Too late now…_ She told herself, and raised her hand and knocked before she lost her courage.

The small sounds that she heard moments ago ceased, and a silence followed as she stood uncertainly and waited. She'd just raised her fist to knock again when the door opened, and she found herself staring up at Syndrome.

He stared down at her silently, and then perked a brow expectantly when she just stood there. She watched his eyes flicker over her clothing, and noticed a slight tint to his skin. Her skin tightened at his scrutiny and his close proximity. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. To her embarrassment, she just stood there gaping at him.

"Can I…help you?" Syndrome's drawling voice snapped her out of her daze. Violet blinked, nodded, and took a step closer to him. So many choices of what to say clamored in her head, and finally, only one came out.

"Why did you kidnap me?"

Syndrome seemed a little taken back, blinking and staring at her for a few seconds in silence. Then he cleared his throat, tilted his head back and adopted his cool expression of indifference. "Because I'm a villain. It's what I do."

Violet frowned, and shook her head. She took another step forward, bringing herself less than a foot from him. She noticed his fingers tightened on the door that he held mostly closed, blocking out what lay behind him.

"You're not a villain. A villain would have kept me in chains in a damp dark cell, and would have used me to lure my family into your clutches." Her voice grew in strength as she gained more conviction that Syndrome was a good guy beneath everything. Or maybe it was what she really wanted to believe. Either way, whether hopeful or truthful, it gave her the confidence to face him. Besides, what did she have to lose? He would do as she had described, and then she would know for sure the black and whites of the situation.

Syndrome seemed stunned, and stared at her with a look that said he was at a loss of what to say to that. Obviously, he hadn't been expecting this sort of confrontation. His eyes flickered back towards what lay behind him, and Violet knew without a question that it was important for her to see what lay inside. Before he could do anything, she pushed forward, catching him off guard and forcing him to stumble back into the room. Violet stumbled with him, then moved quickly away and into the room before he could grab her.

"You don't know what you are talking about, Parr." Syndrome growled, recovering quickly and moving towards her. His face got increasingly darker and harsher with each half step. "You don't know anything about me."

As he moved and spoke, her eyes were taking in the room before her. It was his work room. But instead of weapons of mass destruction, she saw medical equipment. She saw large computer screens with technical information on medical equipment that she'd never heard of. She saw charts of cancer treatment and Alzheimer's symptoms.

He stood so close now, she could feel the heat from his much larger body. He was crowding in front of her, pushing her away from his work, blocking her view and attempting to intimidate her. But all she could think of was that this man, this villain, was working on equipment for the development of cures and treatments.

"You don't know a damned thing about me at all." Syndrome growled down at her, planning his fists on either side of her body and trapping her place. His nearness enveloped her like a drug.

But she was prepared for it this time. She was ready for the rush of heat and electricity that sizzled through her veins and made her tense up defensively. Her head was tilted back and her hands were pressed against the wall behind her. He wasn't touching her though. He was keeping a very specific space between them while still trying to crowd her. And he'd just said the wrong thing. She'd just seen the evidence she needed to know that he wasn't a villain. A villain doesn't try to cure cancer.

"You're wrong. I know more about you than you could ever guess. I know more about you than anyone. Your favorite color is not black, it's purple. You've only told two people that in your whole life." The words came out in a rush, leaving her breathless as she stared at his increasingly widening eyes. And still they came. "You love cats because they're so much smarter than dogs and don't need as much attention. Your favorite season is the fall because of the beautiful colors, and you want to go to Vermont one day and see the mountains painted gold and red. You—"

"Stop! How…how do you know this?" Syndrome stared at her like she was a ghost, the color in his cheeks disappearing. His hand shook when he raised it to grab her chin and tilt her head back further, ensuring eye contact between them. "Tell me how you know this stuff." His voice contained a fine tremor, making Violet's breath hitch.

His touch was like fire against her skin. His eyes blazed with fear and anger. She was left without words as she stared up at me in silence, the sound of his breathing and her breathing dissipating through the large room.

Swallowing hard, Violet mentally braced herself and curled her fingers against the wall. She closed her eyes and whispered quietly. "You know that my favorite color is yellow, because it is always an optimistic color. You know that I love fall as well. You know that I hate people who judge others. You know…that I call myself Flower, and refer to you as my Genius…" The last words were spoken in barely a whisper, with her eyes closed tightly. Her heart stopped and her breath ceased in her lungs. When she'd left her room to "dance with the devil," she hadn't been expecting to tell him that she was Flower. She hadn't planned on it. But then she had seen this room, and it had poured from her lips without her control.

Her words were met with silence. She was afraid of opening her eyes. Each second was an hour in time, until his fingers released her chin, and the heat of his body was replaced by cold emptiness.

Violet opened her eyes, and found Syndrome staring at her with an unfathomable expression. Violet wanted to bolt. Her legs tensed in anticipation. He was just staring at her, and the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. She got so far as turning towards the door before she was halted by the sound of his voice.

"How did you know? When…?"

Violet looked back at him, gripping the wall for support. "The day I got sick…you thought I'd been shocked…but I wasn't. I'd gotten as far into your central room as I could, expecting to learn something, expecting to discover some way to escape or what your plan was. But instead, I saw your IM to me. I saw that you didn't know how I was. I saw that you were Genius."

Syndrome's eyes flickered away from her, as if in memory, and then returned to her face. He had one hand on the table behind him. His expression was of shocked confusion. Somehow, it was like talking to Genius. It was so easy to just imagine their conversation was typed and she was sitting at her desk, experiencing all the emotions she did when she was talking to him. Her hand covered her abdomen as butterflies tried to fly away with her stomach.

"Of all the fate in the world…You had to be Flower…" his quiet words were less directed at her and more directed to his own thoughts. It brought a wry smile to her face as she looked down at the ground.

"I asked myself the same thing…Fate is a cruel cruel thing." Violet couldn't take the tension anymore. She fled from the room, and kept going until she was safe in her little room, curled up on the mattress. In the darkness, she stared up at the ceiling and stared at nothing, her mind scrambling to catch up on what she'd done.

* * *

Violet was Flower. As Syndrome slowly lowered himself into his chair, he realized that it made perfect sense. Her screen name said it all. _Invsbleflowr_. She was Violet, and she could turn invisible. 

Syndrome almost laughed at the logic that seemed so obvious now, but had never crossed his mind before. And the irony…that Flower was the daughter of Mr. Incredible…well, it was indeed a cruel turn of fate.

_What now?_ He asked himself, staring at the floor. Only recently, he'd acknowledged that he'd grown very fond of his online friend. That he'd wished she were real on more than one lonely night. That he looked forward to speaking with her more than anything else. And now… she was here. She was _real_. And she was his prisoner.

Did she hate him? Now that she knew, did she hate Genius? He found the idea terrifying. To lose his one contact, his one friend, was more than he wanted to think about. Syndrome scrubbed his face, closing his eyes tightly and sitting there in the silence of his work room.

In that silence, he let himself think things that he normally forbade himself. He wanted Violet. He'd been watching her for days, and now he knew her most secret thoughts because she was Flower. He wanted to be able to walk up to her, and just be normal. He wanted her to look at him as a man, as a person.

But he'd kidnapped her, electrocuted her, forced her father to do the one thing that he hated above all else. And he was a villain. He was no good with people. He…

Syndrome opened his eyes and banished those thoughts from his mind. Forcing himself to move, he did the one thing that could possibly distract him at the moment, and that was work. Not inventing, or research, but working out. Syndrome stood and retreated to his room, where he systematically changed clothes. Then he went to a small room that was hidden in the back of his work room, and faced the punching bag the resided in the very center.

He would work himself into thoughtlessness. And maybe then, he could figure out everything that was going wrong with his plan, and his life.

* * *

Syndrome stood outside of her room, and stared at the door. His body was covered in his own sweat, and he swayed with exhaustion. His hands were raw, and some of his knuckles were bleeding from the beating they'd endured. He'd taken off his sweat-soaked shirt. He'd left his room and his work area with the intention of getting some food. 

And he'd ended up here.

His jaw tightened, and his hands fisted at his side. He could hear no sounds coming from inside. He could smell her though. After workouts, all of his senses were heightened and aware. And that first night he'd gotten into bed after she'd been sick, he'd been enveloped in her scent. It had caused him to lay awake for hours.

The small woman on the other side of the door he faced had taken his life, and turned it upside down. She'd shaken everything that he knew in life. She'd challenged everything that he'd thought possible. He felt uncertain and confused. And he felt compelled to know more.

Holding his breath, he stepped forward, and opened the door as quietly as possible.

Inside, he could see Violet on the little mattress he'd given her. Her face was towards the door, illuminated by the light of the hallway. The thin sheet that he'd given her was thrown off her, and for the first time, he really recognized the fact that she was wearing his clothes. That his clothes were caressing her body sent a shiver down his spine. She'd put it on willingly, even after knowing who he was.

Swallowing hard, he stepped into the room, moving as silently as possible. She was sleeping. He watched her shoulder and chest rise and fall with her little breaths. When he was close enough, he crouched down next to her, to look at her more closely. Her scent filled his nostrils and made him dizzy. Her presence and her body made his own body tighten in arousal and excitement. Only this little girl had ever affected him in this way. It was unnerving and made it hard to think. It was amazing and frightening to think of how she'd affected him in a week and a half.

From this close, he could see how soft her skin looked. He could see that she had a small freckle on the tip of her nose. He could see that her hair was almost blue when it shone in the light. Compelled, he reached out a hand to touch her hair.

Violet jerked awake, and opened her eyes. Syndrome froze in place, his gaze flickering down to meet her wide-eyed stare. Just as he'd frozen, so too had she. His breath stilled in his chest as he waited for her to scream or yell and lash out at him.

Instead, she simply stared at him. The pull of her eyes was enough to make him drown, to flounder helplessly. He pulled back, uncomfortable by the helplessness that she made him feel. Quick as lightning, her hand shot up and gripped his, stopping his retreat.

"No."

Syndrome stared at their hands. Her skin was cool against the heat of his. Her fingers were small and slender against his large and rough ones.

"You must hate me," Syndrome found himself saying, unable to look at her face and so kept his eyes on her hand around his.

"No…" her whisper was slow, as if she were in the middle of a realization. "I…don't hate you. Not at all…" There was a rustling, and his eyes darted back to her, watching as she slowly sat up. She didn't release his hand.

Syndrome stared at her face, at the caution that was etched into her eyes and her lips. A small flame of hope kindled in his lower belly, one that he was afraid to acknowledge. He couldn't breathe, staring at her. She was watching him just as closely, and the silence that enveloped them was deafening. He didn't know what to say, was afraid of scattering this moment with his harsh voice.

As he watched, she slowly brought up her other hand, never relinquishing his own, and reached up towards his face. He drew back a little, and the hand that held his tightened. He stopped moving, and watched as her free hand moved towards his face, and then gently touched his cheek. He watched her eyes close. Her fingertips were like a cool breeze as they slowly moved over his skin, light as silk.

"I've wanted to know what your voice sounded like, what you looked like, for so long…" she whispered, and her voice caused the fire inside him to burn hotter. He trembled with it, trembled with the new and frightening emotions that were filling him. It was dark, and in this moment, reality was suspended.

"I almost asked you for a phone number once, to hear your voice." Her voice slid through him like the sweetest drink. Syndrome found himself leaning in, and in that moment, he was able to forget that she was his prisoner. He could forget everything but her and her voice.

"Violet…" his voice was hoarse, and he watched her eyes open slowly at his beckon. He reached out with his own free hand and lightly gripped her chin. The grip slowly loosened as his palm cupped her jaw and slid up over her cheek. She was so soft…Syndrome let out a breath that he'd been holding, shifting forward and moving the hand that she held down to the mattress, where he braced himself to lean over her. His other hand slid past her face and through her hair to cup the back of her head.

He didn't think. He just acted. When she didn't push him away. When her head tilted back and her lips parted. When her fingers tightened around his, he was lost. He dipped his head and caught her lips between his. He yielded to the desire that he'd been suppressing and denying for the past week and a half. He pressed her back into his hand and tasted her. He claimed her lips for two hot seconds, then he released them hovering over her, his eyes closed and his body strung like a taunt harp.

When her lips hesitantly move up against his, he almost lost control. His fingers tightened in her hair and his body pressed closer to hers. He deepened the kiss as their breaths mingled together.

She tasted like sweet fruit. He could feel his body hardening and his skin tightening. It had been so long since he'd kissed anyone. It had been so long since he'd been with a woman. And he'd never reacted like this. His body felt like it was on fire.

Violet's body gave way under him, and he pressed her down into the mattress with a gentleness that belied the fire burning in his belly. He nearly groaned into her mouth when he felt her gentle fingers on his shoulder.

He couldn't think. He'd lost all common sense by the time he pressed a knee between her legs and slid a hand under the small of her back. He couldn't have told anyone his own name, let alone think of the ramifications of what he was doing.

But he did feel it when she began to shake. The tightening of her fingers and the small and sudden whimper brought him partway out of the haze of passion he'd fallen into. He stopped moving, ceased kissing her. He backed up enough to see her face. To see her wide frightened eyes. She was panting, and her skin was flushed from heat, but there was a fear and uncertainty in her eyes that brought him fully out of the haze and back to reality. And the reality was, he realized, that he knew for a fact that Flower had never been with a man. Violet had never experienced this heat and passion.

Cursing himself for his own stupidity, Syndrome pulled back, releasing her hair and removing himself from on top of her. His breath came fast and harsh, his body trembling with the heat that was coursing through his veins. He attempted to reclaim his hand, to put distance between them and allow her to breathe, allow him to regain his control.

Violet's eyes closed tightly, as if she were afraid, but her fingers refused to slacken when he tried to pull free. "I…I'm sorry I just…"

Syndrome shook his head, feeling a slow anger filling his body at his own actions. He tugged his hand free, refusing to look at her. He leaned down and scooped her up. His face was a map of stricken lines, and his eyes were hard. "No. It was my fault. I'm sorry. This won't happen again." He stood with her cradled in his arms, not giving her a chance to respond, he left the room and headed down the hallway.

"Syndrome…I…wait…" Violet's voice was alarmed, and her fingers curled over his arm.

"Don't worry. I won't put you in that situation again." He cut her off, shouldering his way into his bedroom. He refused to look down at her as he set her down on the mattress. "You can sleep in here from now on. I will sleep elsewhere."

Syndrome straightened and turned away, heading for the door and clenching his fists at his side. He mentally cursed himself again. He'd practically raped her. The least he could do was offer her a better place to sleep after what he'd done.

And to think…for a second, he'd actually had hope. Hope for…something more…

* * *

A/N- I was on a roll after chapter four, so I just whipped out chapter five! I hope I didn't cause mild heart-attacks in you guys, lol. I hope you enjoy this!!! Please leave a review, and I found it was one of the biggest motivations in completely chapter 5 so quickly. You all said such nice things!!! 


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6**_

Violet wanted to stop him. But her fingers clenched into the sheets and her voice died in her throat. She needed to think. She needed to figure out what just happened. Her heart was hammering against her chest and her skin was hot to the touch. Her face was flushed and her lips were swollen from his kisses. Without a conscious thought, her fingers lifted to lightly touch her tingling mouth.

Syndrome's kisses.

He'd kissed her, but what was more, she'd kissed him back. Her mind whirled. Everything felt like it was moving so fast! She'd been here a little over a week, and now she'd gone from hating him to kissing him. How could this happen?

But he was Genius…And it was perhaps for that reason only that things had moved at such a drastic and sudden pace. She gained a face and a body to the person she'd spent nearly every night with for a few years now. When he was being humane, she could forget that he was also Syndrome, her kidnapper and childhood villain. When he was close to her, touching her, the loneliness of the past few years reared up and threw caution out the window.

Shaking her head, Violet closed her eyes. She felt like she was in a strange dimension where she kept thinking with two brains that continually interchanged. First, he was a villain, she had to know him better, she should investigate further, she should be cautious. Then he was Genius, and she wanted to touch and talk to him, to tell him things and learn things about him. So he had orange hair and the face of her childhood nightmares, so what?

Confused and bewildered, Violet slid off the bed and stumbled towards the bathroom. She couldn't sleep here. She could smell him all over her, and her head was spinning from it. She also felt a twinge of guilt for taking someone's bed. If he had another room, he would have put her in that.

Violet leaned against the sink and stared at herself in the mirror. She almost didn't recognize herself. She was wearing his shirt, her hair was mused, her lips were unusually red and puffy, her cheeks were a dark rose, and her eyes were wide and darkened to a deep azul.

There, as she stared at herself in the mirror, she let the thought that she'd buried come to the surface. The thought that drove fear and apprehension down her spine and butterflies in her stomach.

_I almost lost my virginity to Syndrome. _

Heat flushed her cheeks even darker.

The excitement and dizzying arousal that had jolted her body when his knee pressed between her legs had scared her to death. That she was so willing and eager to lose something as precious as her virginity to Syndrome was a terrifying thought.

But when he'd been kissing her, she'd been kissing Genius, like she had many times in her dreams. He'd held her with a surprising gentleness and passion that had made her more comfortable than she could have ever imagined with someone. It felt like he'd held her countless times before. She'd felt safe.

Biting her lip, Violet rubbed her hot cheeks and looked down at the sink. She knew the turmoil in her body wouldn't end even if she escaped this place and returned to her normal life. Genius had impressed himself into her soul, and now Syndrome was inexorably entwined with her. Perhaps she needed more time to see and interact with this new Syndrome.

Letting out a sigh, she splashed water on her face. Instead of crawling back into his bed, Violet quietly returned to her own little room. Perhaps he would notice later tonight, and reclaim his own bed.

The design was almost finished. At least for now.

Syndrome leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. The lines were beginning to give him a headache. Dropping his pen, he pushed his chair back and crossed his legs at the ankle, looking down at the drafting table before him. The new design for the prototype brain scanner that he was building was spread out before him on a large piece of paper.

It was getting close to lunch. Syndrome had effectively been able to focus on his work for a whole hour of uninterrupted brain work, and was feeling quite proud of it.

After taking a cold shower the night before, he'd spent hours trying to forget the feel of Violet's body under his. Then he'd finally been able to doze off.

He'd woken later in the night from a crick in his neck only to find, from looking at the monitors, that Violet was asleep on her ratty mattress in her room, and not on his bed.

Offended, he'd carried her back to his room. If he was nice enough to offer her his bed, she damn well better accept it. But afterward, it had taken a while more for him to get some sleep. The inability to focus had continued into the next day, and even now he was having trouble concentrating.

"What are you working on?"

Syndrome jumped, looking up to find Violet standing a few feet away. He hadn't heard her approach, which bugged him more than a little. He prided himself on his sharp hearing, but he'd been so damned distracted. Frowning at her, he crossed his arms over his chest. "Nothing that you would understand."

Violet perked a brow. With a quick glance around, she located a stool and dragged it closer to the table to perch on it. "Well, far be it for the great and mighty Syndrome to have to explain something." She muttered, tucking her hair behind her ear before she mimicked him and crossed her arms over her chest. Syndrome noticed that she was wearing her super suit again.

"Why do you want to know?" Syndrome asked, leaning farther back in his chair. He was surprised that he could talk to her so normally. He'd been expecting awkwardness and uncomfortable silence the next time he saw her. Instead, she was looking at him with direct eyes, straight shoulders, and an expectant expression. The vulnerable and timid girl from last night was replaced with her more familiar determined and tough personality.

"What else am I going to do with my time? I might as well bother you then." She cast him a cheeky grin and looked down at the design drawing. It took Syndrome a moment to react. He was caught off guard by the easy way she was talking to him, and the easy way he wanted to respond. It was eerie, as if last night never happened.

Shrugging, he tilted his head to the side and cast the drawing a bored gaze. "Alright, if you really want to be bored to death, by all means…" Uncrossing his arms, he pointed to the drawing. "That is a brain scanner. We have things today that can scan brains, like a CAT scan, but this is different. This is a sort of a…fix-it scanner. Instead of a simple scan, small probes are inserted into the skull at certain locations. While a scanner moves slowly over the scalp, the probes deliver necessary electric charges to restart processes in the brain that may have stopped working properly."

Without turning his head, he looked at Violet. Her expression was one of furrowed concentration as she tried to read the design. "That is amazing." She finally said, sitting back and turning her eyes back to him.

Syndrome pulled on a smug look and nodded. "I know. It comes naturally."

To his surprise, Violet laughed. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched her eyes sparkle. "You're very modest. It suites your Genius image perfectly." Tilting her head to the side, she fiddled with her hair as she regarded him thoughtfully. "Why are you doing this? I thought you made weapons."

Syndrome shrugged, smiling complacently. "I still get the recognition of being a genius, and now I can save lives just like any super. Better, in fact, because I can save more lives of people who otherwise would have no hope. Plus, I get money. People pay well for inventions of medical equipment."

Violet frowned, glancing around. "But I've never heard of you. What do you mean, you're getting recognition? You'd be in jail if the name Syndrome started circulating, regardless of what you're doing. And why medical equipment? You don't get as much as you would for weapons."

Syndrome grinned, "Of course you've heard of me. I've been in the news for the past six months on the latest breakthrough in cancer treatment." He watched her face, his grin widening as her face became even more confused.

"Does the name…Buddy Pine…ring a bell?" Syndrome drawled, tilting his head to the side.

Violet blinked and looked up at him sharply. "You're Buddy Pine? But…how…"

"It's my real name. No one knew it, so I started using it when I developed these inventions and sold them." Syndrome shrugged, spreading his hands out. "Plus, it doesn't cause a red flag at the bank."

Violet let out a laugh, shaking her head. "Wow…I've read about you countless times. I always wondered why your face was never shown. You didn't answer why medical equipment though."

Syndrome's smile faded, and he looked down at the design drawing plans as he crossed his arms over his chest again. "Well…first of all, people question you less when you invent something that does others immediate good, like medical equipment. The NSA is less likely to pick up on that than they would if a new weapons developer appeared on the radar. Plus…the woman who found me after the plan accident died two years ago of cancer. She'd had cancer for many years, and she was old. Plus, I became interested in brain functions after my amnesia cleared. So I tend to focus on cancer and brain functions, but I dabble in other fields too. It took a year or two of intense studying and research to get familiar enough with the subjects in order to start inventing properly."

She didn't say anything, prompting Syndrome to look up at her. She was staring at him with an expression of confusion tinged with surprise. Feeling embarrassed, Syndrome cleared his throat and spoke in a drawling voice, "I get much more attention inventing medical equipment than weapons."

Violet nodded, and he could see it in her eyes, the curiosity, that gave him a good idea of what was about to come out of her lips. Hoping to delay that, he opened his mouth to say something else and change the subject, but she spoke too quickly.

"What happened after the plane exploded? Who took care of you?"

Syndrome pushed himself out of his chair and headed for the door, saying over his shoulder, "None of your business."

He heard a small huff of indignation, making him smirk in amusement. He didn't stop or turn around as she called after him, "You've never said that to me before, Genius!"

That pulled a grim laugh from him. As he entered the hallway, he called back, "You never asked me that kind of question, either."

He'd reached the outer door and thought she'd given up when her voice came out of his workroom at a slightly lower pitch. "You made me your business last night."

Syndrome stopped, his fingers clenching the door knob. She was right, of course, but he had nothing to say to that. Instead of answering, he pulled open the door and disappeared in search of food.

Violet set the plate down on the table, reaching for the empty glass to fill it with milk from the jug in her other hand. "Want some?" she asked, glancing over at Syndrome, who sat across from where she'd set the plate down. He had a matching one in front of him.

"Sure. Fill it up. I drink a lot of milk."

Violet nodded and reached for his glass, glancing at him from under her lashes as she poured. This was the second meal that he'd joined her for. Three days ago, he'd introduced her to his "Brain Scanner." The day after, she'd followed him around as best she could, cautiously studying his movements. They didn't really talk that day, with an awkward tension in the air. She knew both of them had been thinking about the kiss, even though Violet had thought she'd let it go the previous day. It wasn't until evening that Violet had been able to focus on other things, such as trying to figure him out.

Finally, only yesterday, they'd talked again. She'd been following him around, watching him work. She'd been surprised at how he'd put up with her presence with such patience, and then he'd looked up, a few hours after she'd been sitting there and watching him, and asked her what college she wanted to attend.

Violet had been so surprised that she'd just stared at him. Then he'd scowled at her and perked his arrogant little eyebrow. She'd told him about her acceptance into a nearby University. Genius knew she was going to college, but she hadn't told him where, of course. Now Syndrome, as he adjusted something on his machinery, asked her if she was still pursuing pediatric psychology.

She'd discussed this at lengths with Genius, and talking about a familiar subject with Syndrome made him more believable, more…_Genius_. The conversation had been stiff in the beginning, as she was reluctant and wary to say too much, but soon, it felt all too natural. He didn't accompany her to lunch, but after she'd returned to find him in his central hub, she'd sat outside in the hallway, and they'd talked even more openly than before. With her sitting in the hallway, she didn't always see him or look at him, and the same was true for him, she imagined, as he was busy with his work. The result was just as it was when talking to each other online. They could say about anything without care. _And besides,_ Violet had thought, _it's not like I really have to worry about what I say to him. He's a villain, or he was, so he wouldn't judge me anyway. Just like Genius. _

He'd answered most of her questions, some more vaguely than others, but when she'd encroached upon the subject of his childhood, he'd shut down, becoming more snappy and aloof, as she suspected he did whenever he was uncomfortable. She'd let it go, curious.

When her stomach rumbled for more food, she'd stood to leave, and invited him to accompany her if he wanted. He hadn't said anything, so she'd shrugged and left. Ten minutes later, as she was checking on the chicken strips in the oven, she'd straightened to find him cautiously entering the kitchen. His expression had been guarded and aloof. She'd indicated a chair, and asked him what he'd like to drink. From there, the atmosphere had relaxed considerably.

Now it was lunch time the following day.

Violet sat down across from him, reaching for a napkin, and glanced down at the food she'd prepared. Nothing fancy, just some turkey club sandwiches and French fries. Syndrome was already digging in. Smiling hesitantly, feeling a little nervous to be enjoying this moment, she popped a fry in her mouth.

"You're a good cook."

Violet blinked and glanced up at him. He was staring down at his food, and she could see the faint red in his cheeks that signaled he was embarrassed by the compliment. Still, it was really the first one he'd ever paid to her since she'd arrived here.

"Thank you…" she replied slowly, glancing down at the sandwich. "I like cooking, I guess, though I don't really know many recipes or anything."

"You find it relaxing." Syndrome said, as a statement, not a question.

Violet nodded, remembering that she'd told him that before. "You remember a lot of things," she informed him, uncomfortably warmed by the idea.

"I am a genius, after all." He glanced up at her for the first time now, grinning in a cocky way. It drew an unwitting smile from her as she chuckled and shook her head.

"And the most modest man I know too," she shot back before she took a bite from her sandwich. His eyes twinkled in mischief and silent laughter. Her stomach clenched as she realized how _handsome_ he looked when he was smiling.

"I'm not modest, I'm amazingly self-assured." Syndrome tipped his head at her as if taking a little bow for his completely and utter amazing-ness, and finished off his fries.

Violet could only shake her head and try and contain the laughter that was bubbling up inside her. It was eerie and strange to be sharing fun with Syndrome, and yet so similar to the bantering and teasing between her and Genius that it seemed natural. It had taken Genius a long time to warm up to the idea of teasing when they talked online.

Violet's laughter slowly subsided, and she found herself staring at him with a small frown. When Syndrome glanced up and noticed, he stopped and perked a brow.

"What?"

Violet hesitated, then threw caution to the wind and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, dropping her chin into her palm. "I don't…understand you…"

Syndrome seemed startled by the revelation. He opened his mouth, but Violet shook her head and cut him off. "You say you're a villain. You kidnap me for some unknown reason that I feel has to do with revenge, and yet…I know you used to be a villain. I used to have nightmares about you. But now…I know Genius is a good person. I know he has rough spots, but he's a decent human being. And now, right now, you seem like a decent human being. And yet…I just don't get you…"

Syndrome stared at her as shadows flickered across his expression. She could see his jaw clench, especially when she said she'd had nightmares about him. His face was unreadable. When he spoke, it was in a quiet voice that surprised her with the lack of snappy impatience he would normally resort to in uncomfortable situations.

"I can delusion myself into thinking and hoping that I could be a decent guy, but we're both wrong. Someone like me can never be normal and decent. Forget about it." Abruptly, he rose from his chair, thanked her for lunch and disappeared down his hallway, leaving Violet stunned and silent, staring after him.

For two hours, she kept herself from seeking him out. She was at war with herself, with half of her telling her that a truly indecent man would not treat her as he has, nor would he deny himself to be anything less than good in his opinion. That he would put himself down spoke volumes of how he thought of himself. He didn't want to be bad, but he thought he couldn't be anything but.

Another part of her was reluctant to let go of him as the villain, because with the word villain between them, she was safe from the complications of being attracted to him, of…liking him. If she thought of him as a villain, she couldn't possibly like him.

Problem was…she was having a hard time convincing herself he was a villain.

_Stockholm Syndrome_, she told herself. She must be suffering from Stockholm syndrome. Stockholm Syndrome of Syndrome. How ironic…

Thinking herself crazy, she went in search of him regardless, unable to stand it anymore. He wasn't in his central room, nor his work room. His bedroom door was open, but the room was also empty. Frowning, she was just walking past his work room towards the outer hallway when she heard a grunt.

Cautiously, she entered his work room, sure that she hadn't seen him in there before. For ten seconds, she stood in the room, wondering if she was crazy. She'd just turned to leave when she heard another grunt, followed by a low thud. Turning back around, she cast around for the source of the sound. Her eyes fell on a door, slightly hidden behind a book shelf, which she'd barely noticed before.

Approaching it, she made sure to reach forward with the hand that did not have the bracelet, just in case it was shock protected. As quietly as she could, she opened the door just enough for her to see inside.

The room was a little bigger than the work room, with a mirror on one wall and work out equipment scattered around the blue padded floor. Her eyes were drawn to the form of a shirtless Syndrome, who was facing a punching bag. His knuckles were wrapped. She could vaguely recall noticing his cut up knuckles a few days ago, and now they made sense.

He looked angry. He was hitting the punching bag as if it had personally offended him. Her breath caught in her throat and warmth shot down to her stomach as she noticed his muscles. He was far more toned than he had been when she was little. His muscles bulged and ripple with each punch he threw. His eyes were narrowed and his jaw was locked.

Biting her lip, Violet silently withdrew, pulling the door with her until it quietly closed.

Shaken by her response to him, she retreated to her room.

Exhausted, Syndrome fell back against the wall and stared at the swaying punching bag. His breathing came out harsh, burning his lungs. His head squeezed painfully in his chest, trying to distribute enough blood. He'd been at it for three hours now. It was time to rest.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, he left his personal gym for his bedroom, which he had reclaimed after she'd refused to sleep in his room, much to his consternation. As he left, he avoided looking in the mirror.

His room was refreshingly cool. He didn't bother closing the door as he walked towards his dresser, his eyes trained on the white tape around his knuckles. Both were spotted red, and he slowly peeled the tape away from his skin as he stopped before his dresser. The sting washed over him wonderfully, and he relished in the minute pain. It was satisfying and real.

His knuckles were bleeding, worse than they had been before. The scabs he'd developed were gone, ripped away by his furious punches. Planting his hands down on the dresser, he leaned forward, resting his body, and stared down at the open wounds.

She'd had nightmares of him. And he cared.

The physical attraction between them now seemed like an easy burden compared with this new compassion for her. He liked her. He enjoyed being around her and listening to her talk. She was relentless with her questions. She teased him when others were afraid to or just couldn't be bothered to. He felt young and fresh with her…untainted.

But he wasn't untainted. He must remember that. Solitude was best.

But still…her confusion implied that she thought good of him and yet didn't know why. That anyone would think good of him, and most especially her, was frightening and refreshing. It made him yearn for it to be true.

Clenching his teeth, he closed his eyes and tightened his hands into fists until his bleeding knuckles burned.

"Syndrome…?"

Syndrome's head shot up, his gaze shooting through the mirror to the reflection of Violet, standing in his doorway, staring at him with wide eyes. His stomach tightened and heat warmed his cheeks and neck. Turning around, he faced her, pressed back against the dresser behind him.

As he stood frozen, Violet's eyes flickered to his hands and back up to his face.

Hesitantly, she took a step into the room.

* * *

A/N- YAY!!! lol, I gave you a cliffhanger hides don't hurt me!!! I promise amazing goodyness next chapter cackles Please review, it makes me want to update. No reviews, no updates!!! . 

, 

hehe


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

His body still glistened with sweat from his workout. With each step closer to him, Violet could feel the butterflies in her stomach become more anxious. Her eyes flickered back to his bleeding knuckles, to avoid his eyes. He stood silently, motionlessly, with his gaze boring into her soul.

When she was close enough, she reached forward for his right hand, and brought it up closer to her face. "You shouldn't be so hard on your hands. They're worth a lot of money." Her voice came out lower than she'd intended. When he didn't say anything, she looked up at him.

He was so much taller than her, looming over her in the semi-light of the one active lamp in the room. His expression was masked, but his eyes burned with all of his fierce emotions. It scared her to the pit of her soul, and drove slivers of excitement through her bloodstream. These past few days, her emotions have been calmer. They'd kept a distance between them during their conversations, but the proximity and intensity of the moment was enough to catch her on fire.

Clearing her throat, she struggled to speak normally. "We need to clean these…" she informed him, turning away from his face to tug him towards the bathroom. She was feeling overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of heat and electricity she felt whenever she was this close to him. Part of her was screaming at her to leave, to regain the calmer, more lukewarm experiences from the past fews days, but another part craved this rush of emotions and heat. She felt dizzy with the duel going on between her head and her body.

He followed her without a sound. She could feel his eyes burning a hole in the back of her head. Pulling him into the bathroom, she turned on the faucet for cold water. She glanced up in the mirror to find that he wasn't even paying attention to his hand. He was staring at her. Swallowing hard, she focused on his hand, gently putting it under the water. He didn't even flinch.

"Why don't you hate me? Why aren't you disgusted by me?"

Startled, Violet looked up into the mirror, where she found him staring at her with a puzzled expression. She was caught off guard by the question, which she hadn't been answering herself. She looked away from him quickly and reached for his other hand, quickly inserting it under the water and tilting her head downward so that her hair would cover her face from his view.

"How can I hate the person who kept me from going insane for years? You're my Genius…no matter what you look like. And I think you've changed…" Violet answered him quietly, watching the blood wash away from his split knuckles. When he didn't respond, she desperately wanted to look up, but forced herself to remain still as she continued to clean the hand even when the blood had stopped flowing.

He shifted, and her body tense with anticipation. He moved behind her, placing his free hand on her other side and turning his other hand up in hers, gripping her fingers. He tugged her around to face him, and her lungs tightened. Her eyes closed briefly, but she forced her eyes open and tilted her head back to look at him, desperately searching for that sensible side of herself.

He leaned over her, bracing himself on the counter at her back, forcing her to lean back with him. His face was so close to hers, and she could feel the heat of his body wrap around her like a warm cocoon. His expression softened, and his eyes flickered over her features. Violet held her breath, knowing she should stop him, knowing that her life would be so much less complicated if she just walked away right now, but she didn't.

So when he tilted his head to the side and gently dipped his head down to hers, she didn't pull away or turn her face to the side. The opposite, her lips were drawn upward a fraction of an inch, as if pulled by a mysterious string.

As his lips lightly brushed hers, all of her insides tightened. However, the reaction was completely different than it had been last time. Instead of hot and fast, this kiss was soft and gentle, and her body felt like it was melting. Her resolved to stop him, any time now, was slowly getting smaller and smaller as one of his hands came up to lightly cup her cheek.

His kiss deepened, yet he remained gentle as he softly coaxed her lips with his own. Violet felt lost, drowning in the sensation that his lips were producing in her body. Her fingers gripped his arms as her knees turned rubbery and gave way. His lips left hers as he scooped her up in his arms as if she weight no more than a doll, looking down at her with a fire burning in his eyes. He was shaking slightly, and she realized how much he was trying to hold back. Her breath froze in her throat as she stared up at him, at his harsh yet handsome features.

"Do you want me to stop, Violet?" he asked, his voice coming out low and gravelly. He held her before the running faucet, and time seemed to stop. There was nothing but his eyes, blazing with restrained passion. And he was giving her an out.

Violet might have said yes, she wanted him to stop, if he hadn't given her the option. But here he stood, pulling back and giving her the choice. She could leave right now, she knew this to be true, and he would never bother her again. She could walk away from this, but then she could be walking away from the chance to be with the one man who understood her.

"No," she replied quietly. "I don't...want you to stop..."

His eyes flared in surprise, and his hold on her tightened as if she were going to change her mind instantly. He deftly turned off the faucet, keeping his hold on her as he turned towards the door to the bedroom. Violet's fingers tightened on his arm as anxiety shot through her, and his steps slowed to a stop in the doorway. Inside, she could see the large bed. Biting her lower lip, she looked up to see that he was looking down at her without a word, silently waiting, she could see, for her to say no, waiting for her to struggle in his arms and leave.

Her fingers relaxed, and a flicker of some deep emotion passed behind his eyes. Moving more slowly now, he approached the bed, staring down at her. His eyes were moving over her face, over her body. As if they were moving through sluggish water, he leaned down and gently placed her on the bed.

Violet stared up at him as he leaned over her, his hands planted on either side of her hips. She swallowed hard, frozen by his presence, by the emotions that were raging through her, and yet seemed to be moving as slowly as magma.

"Syndrome..." she whispered slowly, licking her lips as panic hedged through her ribs and into her chest.

Syndrome cut her off, raising a hand and covering her lips with two fingers. He shook his head, and when he spoke, his voice was a deep rumble that heated her blood and made her tense muscles relax. "Would you...call me Buddy...?"

Surprised, Violet blinked up at him. Call him...Buddy? She nodded slowly, and watched something like hope flicker through his eyes. It melted her insides, calmed her down. Moving slowly, she slid back on the bed until her hands bumped into the pillows. Her eyes never left his as he watched her move, motionless. With each inch, fire grew in his gaze until she was shaking in response.

* * *

Buddy felt like his skin was going to explode off of him, he was so hard and tense. She was moving so carefully...He was afraid to scare her, or break her. He knew she was nervous. She was shaking from it, but she was still here, and that was what mattered the most.

Moving slowly, he circle the bed and climbed on from the side, sliding up next to her as gently as he could. She was watching him with eyes as big as saucers, and it only made him harder. Letting out a tortured groan, he closed his eyes and dipped his head towards hers, capturing her lips again and pushing her into the mattress, supporting his weight with his hand on the other side of her, effectively trapping her.

She responded beautifully, which wasn't helping his control. He was coaxing her, probing her lips as she hesitantly kissed him back, tentatively exploring his lips. "You're beautiful..." he murmured against her lips, placing more of his body weight on her as he slowly shifted a leg over her two. He felt her stiffen for a moment, and then melt underneath him.

It pleased him to no end.

This was it...They had committed to this. He couldn't even think of the ramifications right now, and perhaps that was why this was happening. But he wasn't about to let it go.

Tilting his head to the side, he gently probed the seam of her lips with his tongue, and felt her jerk in response. It drew a chuckle from him, and he pulled back to see her blush and bite her lower lip. His voice was hoarse as he whispered, "we can stop..."

Violet's eyes jumped up to his, and warmed. She drew in a breath and reached up for his face, gentle cupping his cheeks and drawing him back down for the kiss of his life. It drew an immediate moan from him as her lips meshed with his, hot and fast and full of passion and yearning. He knew right there that she'd had finally opened herself up to him, like a blooming flower. And it made his blood burn with desire.

He pressed his body down against hers, feeling her respond by pressing up against him. She was so soft and little against his hard planes. He drew his lips away from hers and kissed down her chin, to her throat, and along her collarbone. Her breathing was getting labored, and her hands were clinging to his shoulders. Unconsciously, he rubbed himself against her, needing to feel her, desperate for it. She gasped softly, drawing his eyes up to her face. She stared at him with wide eyes.

"You...you feel so big..." she whispered breathlessly, and he could see the worry and doubt in her eyes. It made him chuckle, drawing a smug grin from him as he leaned up and kissed her nose.

"I will fit. We will go very...very slow...I promise." He lightly stroked a fingers down her shoulder, over her collarbone and down her breast bone, until he lightly stroked her breast through the fabric of her super suit. She shivered, and her eyes widened even more, never taking her eyes off of him. "And you will be very ready by the time we get there, I promise that too."

When she nodded a little, he smiled, more gently, and reached up for the collar of her super suit, drawing it off of her shoulder in a slow, smooth gesture. Her breath caught, making him shiver in pleasure. With each new inch of skin exposed on her shoulder, he placed a kiss.

To feel so immensely tender about someone was foreign to him, and yet he seemed to know exactly what to do not to scare her. He wanted this more than anything in his life right now, and scaring her off was not a good idea. Her scent was making him dizzy and he felt like he was floating on a sea of emotion and passion.

Holding her a little tighter, he looked up into her eyes, seeing the dizzy feeling mirrored in her almost purple eyes. He could also see a worry in her eyes and a certain stiffness in her bodt as her suit was peel away.

"Don't worry, I've already seen you naked. I know how beautiful you are," he reassured her, unable to suppress a grin. When she blushed deeply and smiled, he felt a certain elation. "And I assure you, I'm pretty beautiful myself," he added with a smug smile.

Violet let out a laugh, and Buddy couldn't resist tasting her laughter as he bent down for a kiss, eager to drown in her body.

* * *

In the silence of the night, Violet could hear Buddy's breathing. Her eyes were closed, but she was wide awake. Buddy lay behind her, curled around her body with his arms wrapped securely around her waist. The warmth of his bare skin against hers brought a continuous blush to her cheeks. She wondered if he was asleep, with his face tucked against her shoulder and his lips pressed against her skin. It was so strange, to lie there with him after...well, after making love.

Violet flushed again, thinking about the last few hours. She couldn't believe how gentle he had been with her. He had gone so slow with her, talking to her the whole time. It had hurt, and he had consoled her, whispered comforting words as he remained absolutely still. She could tell how hard it had been for him to remain so still, with his skin glistening with sweat from the effort and his muscles quivering in need and anticipation.

She remembered his face, hovering over hers as he'd filled her. She remembered his smile when she'd exclaimed at the slow onset of pleasure instead of pain. He'd been very smug, and that had made her smile, which had helped her relax even more.

She hadn't been able to orgasm with him. She had been too sore, and when he had come down from his pleasure, he'd been very upset with himself. She'd tried to tell him that everything was fine, but he'd refused to listen. With a determined expression, he'd told her that he would give her pleasure if it took him all night. And then he'd used his hand to give her an experience she would never forget.

This was no villain. This man had been the most generous lover she could ever imagine, not that she had much experience. Her fingers curled against his arm, and she felt him stir behind her.

"Are you alright?" Buddy asked in a sleepy voice, lifting his head and nuzzling her neck.

Violet smiled and half turned to look at him. From the glow of the clock, she could see his eyes, gazing down at her. She reached up with a hand and touched his cheek. He started a little, and then relaxed into her touch, slowly closing his eyes in enjoyment.

"This is very...strange..." she whispered to him.

"Yes. But it feels so good..." he returned, opening his eyes to look down at her with a serious gaze. "Violet, I...I'm different. I've changed. I was going to return to my island after I...well...I intended to be alone, but you've changed that. But you and I...I know it would be difficult for us, but--"

"What made you change," Violet interrupted, desperate to stop him. She couldn't think about the consequences of what they'd done right now. How could she bring him home to her family? How could they have a real relationship, knowing what her family thought of Buddy? She hadn't let herself think about these things when she'd opened up her body to him, but now they seemed too big to ignore. The deed was done, and now things were going to get a lot more complicated and messy. They'd succumbed to their physical desire, but there was so much more to everything...

Sill, that didn't change how much she wanted it to work.

Buddy was silent so long, she though he might refuse to answer. She tore herself away from her thoughts to watch his expression. He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, he looked away from her and stared out across the room.

As he began, his fingers curled into her hair and slowly played with the strands. "Ingrid Larsen found me after I used zero-point gravity in the plane's engine. I'd free-fallen into her yard. I had no memory of anything for a long time, but she took care of me regardless. She was an old woman who lived alone with her three cats. She was on a fixed income, but she helped me regardless. When I did remember who I was, courtesy of your father, actually, I realized that Ingrid had known all along. I researched what happened about me after my "death" and found that my face had been all over the news for two weeks after the incident with the plane. I had been in a bad state and so wasn't able to see the news. And she still took care of me despite knowing I was a villain, the difficulties, her old age and so forth. It hit me that she had been a hero to me. It hit me that you didn't need to be a super or have fancy gadgets to be a hero. For a while I built this place to hide away, but then I found out that Ingrid had died of cancer, all alone. She didn't have any family. I decided then that I would put my genius to medical use."

Violet stared up at him, marveling that one little old lady had made him a good person. His eyes were sad, and it was obvious that the woman had meant a lot to him, and it pained him that she was gone. Another question occurred to her, but she asked this one with more tentatively than the previous one. Her voice was slow and soft as she reached up to lightly touch his cheek, marveling that she could share this intimacy with him. "How...how does a little boy come to be a villain...? Did you really hate my father so much that...you...well...turned villainous?"

Buddy stiffened, and Violet thought that she had perhaps gone over the line. He turned his eyes on her, and she felt her breath die in her throat. His eyes were hard and darkened from a deep emotion. He pulled away from her, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. Violet felt his absence immediately. She sat up with a sound of protest in her throat, but he held up a hand to stop her, his face turned away.

"Buddy...I'm sorry. It's none of my business." Violet moved up behind him, gingerly touching his shoulder. She held the sheet against her chest. Although she had asked this question, it also touched on the fact that he had still kidnapped her, and while she didn't know what his ultimate plan was, he was still aching for revenger against her father, despite Ingrid's influence. Still, she wouldn't ask about that yet. Biting her lip, she tried to see Buddy's face in the gloom.

Buddy remained still, his face hidden from her. As she debated what to say, he shifted a little, turning his head towards her a fraction of an inch. "When...when I tried to help your father with Bomb Voyage, I was captured on the news. The news showed my flying jet boots. About two weeks later, I was kidnapped from my home."

Buddy paused, and Violet had to remind herself to breathe. Her heart clenched in pity. She shifted closer to him.

"The man who kidnapped me was interested in my ability to invent things. He ran an academy in Canada for gifted minds and unattached supers that had yet to be influenced or discovered. He was trying to build and army of supers and gifted brains to rule the world. He told us that the world hated us because we weren't as good as supers. Basically, he tried to make us as evil and bitter to the world as possible. He told me that my parents had paid him to take me. Showed me a receipt of transaction. I left him when I was old enough and started working on my own. He used Mr. Incredible's rebuff as a weapon to foster my hate of supers. I kept going with it, resenting that Mr. Incredible thought that only supers could be heroes and help people. The Teacher, as we called him, came after me when I left, but I took care of him and began working with world leaders and terrorists on weapon building."

Violet remained silent for a while, stunned by the revelation that he wasn't born a villain. Many people thought that villains were just born that way, and though she often vented about how she hated people who judged others, she never really gave it much thought as to why villains where villains. Buddy was made to be a villain against his choice.

Lost for words to this startling story, Violet could only reach up and lightly touch his cheek. Her fingers slid tentatively over his jaw and to his chin, where she gently, hesitantly, tugged at him to look at her.

Buddy moved, but reluctantly. His eyes were dark from distant memories, guarded against her. His face was rigid, his body tense. Violet gaze up at him in silence, searching his eyes, his soul.

* * *

When Buddy allowed her to turn his head, he was expecting to see a pitying expression, maybe one of condemnation. But instead, he found a slightly curious expression on her face. She was looking at him with such intensity and closeness that he felt exposed, from the inside out. Her fingers still rested lightly on his chin, and her skin against his

As he stared back at her, he couldn't help but admire her simple beauty. Her face just glowed, and her eyes glittered like deep amethysts. It was very strange to have a face to his Flower, especially one so unexpected as Violet Parr's.

"Buddy...thank you for being such a generous lover to me," she finally whispered, blushing deep and offering him a small and tentative smile. He was so taken back by the comment that he simply gaped at her. He had expected some kind of comment about his deep and dark past, but with such that sentence, and her easy and shy expression, she had acknowledge his past, and simply put it aside and moved on to other things.

"You're...welcome." Buddy blinked slowly, and turned towards her on the bed. She sat with the sheets surrounding her like frothing waves, her hand holding a corner of it up over her chest. She blushed to see him looking, and he couldn't help thinking how adorable she was. He reached out and lightly touched her pink cheeks. "You are so shy and yet so bold at the same time. You are a mysterious and complicated woman Violet."

Violet let out a small laugh, and Buddy felt warmed by it. He slid back under the covers, lying on his side and facing her. Holding out his arm, he offered her a smile and whispered, "Sleep with me Violet."

She blushed again, and it made him smile more. Her movements were slow as she gently slid closer to him, and he was very aware that she had never done this before. It made him feel strangely tender, and even a little possessive, as he gathered her close to him and leaned down to give her a small kiss on her lips. "Goodnight, Violet."

"Goodnight...Buddy."

* * *

It's about time! I thought he would never leave again, the man grumbled in his head. He cracked his neck and reached for his gloves and jacket. After discovering the door to Syndrome's lair, he'd settled down for the man to leave again. Then he would have his chance.

And now it was here.

Feeling a grin stealing over his lips as he headed out, eagerness filling his veins with hot adrenaline as he rushed out into the cool morning air.

* * *

A/N- HELLO!! Hehe, it's been a while. I really hope you like this chapter. It's full of tension, angst, and romance!! Please leave a review, it really REALLY helps in my writing. Thank you so much!! I love reading your reviews .

* * *


	8. Chapter 8

**_Chapter 8_**

Violet blinked groggily as a light flooded the room. Moments later, her eyes shot open as the alarm clock next to the bed said in a loud, feminine voice, "Good Morning, it is 8:30 am."

Violet reached over and blearily shut it off.

Then she sat up in the very large bed, very much alone, as memories of the night before filtered into her waking brain.

She'd lost her virginity.

To Syndrome.

Violet scrambled out of bed, vaguely recalling being woken earlier by Buddy as he told her he'd be out for a little bit. Turning on the bathroom light, she came to a stop in front of the sink, staring at herself with wide eyes.

She'd lost her virginity.

Violet drew in a shaky breath. Her eyes were a deep purple, her skin so pale it was almost translucent. Her dark hair was tousled and disheveled. Her fingers shook were she gingerly touched her own cheek, and then her lips, slightly red.

Looking away from herself, she turned on the faucet, changed her mind, and turned towards the shower. She needed the hot water to calm her down. She was already naked, so she just turned on the water and got in.

As the hot water cascaded down on her head, Violet silently cursed herself. She'd always told herself that she wouldn't be dumb and lose her virginity quickly. She'd always planned to be dating the guy for a while before she let things go to the next level. But last night...

Well, everything had felt so right, and her mind hadn't exactly been thinking too much. Being in this...place...made everything different, made everything seem so...surreal. Last night, Buddy had been so gentle with her, and she'd felt so bold, so...free.

Maybe she was being a rebel...sleeping with her family's nemesis.

But it was more than that, really. Buddy had proven to be so much more than a villain. Her world of black and white, good vs. bad, which had already been shaky, had been completely blown up by Buddy and the way he acted.

Heck, referring to him as Buddy in her mind so easily was just one sign, when before he'd always been Syndrome, the villain, not Buddy, the person.

Shaking her head to try and alleviate all of the thoughts swirling around her brain, Violet decided that three things were for certain: there was more to Buddy than meets the eye as far as villains go, she could not let last night repeat itself, and she had to put some distance between them before anything bad happened. Like caring for him. Last night had been a fluke, a crazy night where she wasn't thinking and was acting drastically with her captor who had shown unusual kindness.

Nodding her head to further punctuate her thoughts, Violet quickly washed and stepped out, hurrying to dry and get back in her own clothes.

Violet was on her way to the kitchen when she heard the door open. The door that she knew led to the outside, if only she could get through it. Her steps slowed, but instead of going past the kitchen to the door as she wanted to, Violet made herself turn towards the kitchen.

The movement in the hallway was approaching her, but Violet kept her eyes on her hands as she prepared to make a sandwich for herself.

It wasn't until the steps where actually in the kitchen that she realized they sounded nothing like Syndrome's careful steps. These were quick, light steps.

Violet turned around and came face to face with a stranger. A man, standing three feet from her. He was taller than her, but not by much. He was lean, with hardly any meat to his bones. His nose was long and showed signs of being broken and healed unevenly. His eyes were a dull mud brown, but they glittered with malice and intelligence. His lips cracked into a feral smile, revealing teeth that desperately needed a dentist.

Violet gripped the spoon that she'd been holding.

"Who the hell are you?" She asked taking a step back to put her back against the counter.

"My name...is Parasite." He replied, and lifted a gloved hand. In it was a small black device. Her eyes widened when she realized it was a taser. "And you are going to come with me now."

With her heart hammering against her chest and fear-induced adrenaline pumping through her veins, Violet hurled the spoon at his face and ran for the door.

* * *

Buddy slowed as he came down the alleyway that lead to the entrance of his lair. He glanced over his shoulder back down the alleyway he'd traversed, and upon finding it empty, he slipped a hand between two bricks that were spaced wide enough apart for his hand. The fingerprint and DNA scanner peeped quietly, and the door latch released.

Opening the door, Buddy made it three steps before his breath left his lungs in a whoosh as his eyes widened and his heart stuttered. The hallway that acted as a buffer between the circular hallway and the outside world had blood splattered on the wall and floor, though it small quantities. The door to the hallway was open. On the floor, closer to the hallway than to the outside world, lay Violet's metal volt bracelet.

Buddy strode forward and picked it up, startled when it sent a small jolt into him at the smallest contact. Grimacing, he left it where it was and entered the hallway. His eyes roamed the area, spotting two more blood drops leading towards, or from, the kitchen. He followed them, and in the kitchen, he found mayhem. A half-made sandwich lay on the counter. The chairs had been overturned and one of the table legs was broken. A spoon lay in the corner.

Anger built inside Buddy with every moment. His fingers curled into fists, his muscles quivering. His steps echoed as he made his way to his control room. There, he was able to rewind his video feed and watch it all. Watch how a strange man used a glove to get past his door, corner Violet in the kitchen, taser and wrestle with her, punching her, kicking her, to get her outside. When she'd been pulled past the door, he winced when she screamed, her body convulsing. His fist cracked down on the desk when the man grabbed her arm, broke her hand, and ripped the bracelet free.

She'd lost consciousness by then, and he'd slung her into a large bag which Violet easily fit in, and carried her away past the line of his feed.

And the man was the same one who'd he'd purchased to make a diversion in capturing Violet in the first place.

Buddy let out a yell of pure rage and tossed his computer chair across the room, where it banged against the door and fell to the floor. His body vibrated with his anger, his finger curled into fists and his eyes simmered with wrath.

He'd been duped. The great genius Syndrome had been duped by some sniveling man who'd been eager to please and even more eager for money. He was almost certain that the man had done something, collected some samples of some kind, when they'd met to arrange for the distraction. And now the man has Violet.

A few days ago, this may have angered him to no end because Violet was his prisoner, his link to the ultimate revenge against Mr. Incredible. It was more than that now. He'd begun to feel a little for the girl. Damn it, he'd taken her to his bed! And it hadn't been about the sex. He'd enjoyed showing her things and seeing her pleasure more than he should have. He hadn't woken up alone. The hole of loneliness which had only been filled when speaking to Flower had been filled twenty four seven by the living breathing flower herself.

Buddy closed his eyes and leaned forward against the desk, trying to get ahold of himself. Ranting and raving were going to get him nowhere. He'd learned long ago that his fiery temper was best left leashed. His eyes narrowed dangerously on the still shot of the man's face as he glanced over his shoulder before he left the line of sight of his alleyway camera.

The man was going to pay.

Buddy reached for one of his many devices, a plan formulating in his head.

* * *

Violet came awake to pain. Her hand throbbed unmercifully, and her body ached all over from numerous cuts and bruises. Never before had she had to fight a villain without the power of invisibility, or of shields, and her body had paid the price. She'd become too reliant on them.

Holding herself still to keep from further damaging herself, Violet looked around the dingy room she was in. It was obviously a rented apartment that hadn't been renovated or repaired in many years. Her ankles were in handcuffs, and so were her wrists, behind her back, and both handcuffs were around two steel pipes in the wall. They were spaced apart to the point where her back was arched a little to allow the position. Wincing, she looked over her shoulder to see that the steel pipe was rusty, and might give if she pulled hard enough. Still, she needed to rest a moment or she knew she'd pass out from the first attempt.

As she shifted for a more comfortable position, she realized that the weight on her wrists came only from the handcuffs. The metal bracelet which had blocked her powers was gone. Elation soared in her chest at the realization that she could use her powers again.

The elation was doused some when she realized that it would do nothing to help her escape. She was weak, beaten, and completely immobilized in the strange position that had her laying on the ground on her side. What was more, as she shifted again, a sharp, white-hot pain shot up her hand and into her arm. She bit her lip to keep from screaming, drawing a dot of blood. She had a broken hand.

For the first time in a long time, Violet just wanted to cry. These past few weeks had been terror. She'd been kidnapped twice, she hurt all over, and the saddest, perhaps most pathetic part was that she wanted the wrong person to save her.

She should have wanted her parents, hell, even her brothers, to save her, but no...No, she wanted Buddy to save her. In the past few days, things had drastically changed in her life, and one of the most drastic was that she'd given away her virginity to a guy who had once been her enemy and that she barely knew. The moment had been so passionate, and he'd been so surprisingly gentle, that she hadn't been able to stop. Looking back, she wished she'd waited, knew that her high-strung emotions and hormones had played too large of a part in her decision.

Did she regret becoming so close to him though?

Her heart and her head hesitated from what she knew should have been an immediate 'yes.' It should have been Stockholm syndrome...but Violet knew that was a lie. Even now, she craved to know more about him, to be around him more…

She was considering a fucking relationship with him.

Violet groaned, shaking her head a little to clear her thoughts. This was definitely not the time, nor the place, to be thinking about something like that. Instead, she shifted her body into a position that would allow her to kick her legs against her restraints and try to crack or move the rusted pipe. She was bracing herself for the pain when a sound made her freeze in place.

A door opened loudly, less from force and more from the horrible screeching sound of a door in serious need of oil. Violet moved back to the way she'd been laying when she woke up, closing her eyes and resting her head back down against the floor. She held herself as still as possible as footsteps echoed against the floorboards by her ear. They got quieter as they receded in the opposite direction, and then louder when the person headed for her direction. She tried not to stiffen when the door to the small room she was in was thrown open, and the footsteps, at their loudest, brought the walker to within a foot of her head.

"Still passed out eh? What a little weakling...Well, that makes it a quieter night for me!" The man's voice was whiny, full of gloating. It was the same voice was the man who'd kidnapped her...Parasite. The floorboards creaked as he leaned down, and Violet distinctly heard him smell her, a long pull of air, and his reaction, to groan happily, had her skin tighten in disgust and fear. This man was crazy.

Within moments, during which Violet was sure he was staring at her, he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. She opened her eyes to gaze at after him, her wide eyes taking in the closed and probably locked door that lead to the rest of the apartment. Her hear sank even lower than before. This man, Parasite, was smart, and he was crazy. She didn't know what he wanted with her, but she knew she was in a very bad position.

Sweat beading her brow, Violet began to tug on the pipe, doing it quietly, and over and over. With any luck, the repeated friction would set her free.

* * *

Buddy grit his teeth and slammed his fist down on the desk. He had the man's location down to a couple of apartment buildings, but it was taking too long! He'd managed to hack into the cameras that monitored traffic, and followed the man back to a neighborhood, but he'd gone out of range of the cameras and hadn't reappeared in any others, which meant that his lair was located in any number of the buildings that was accessible by the road he'd last been seen on, and had entrances that were no in range of the traffic camera.

Already a full day had passed since she'd been taken. Each time the man had disappeared from a camera, Buddy had been forced to riffle through cameras until he found him again on another screen. This process, along with the residents list he hacked and had been going over, had taken almost a whole day. He hadn't slept or eaten, especially when he'd discovered that there had been no new residents in the buildings, not that any document was aware of, and so Buddy had been forced to look up the histories of anyone who could possibly be the man who'd taken Violet.

He had together everything he needed once he found her, all of the equipment to get his Flower back, but he hadn't counted on how long the searching process would take. The city's surveillance was splotchy, and the apartments in the neighborhood were all low-grade, sketchy buildings that had very little record of the residents.

During the search, his mind had been trying to figure out what the man could possibly want with Violet Parr. Very few people knew who she was, because she hadn't been wearing her suit when she'd been taken, and without her suit and mask, she looked like an ordinary girl. But then...the man had been the diversion that Buddy had used to kidnap Violet in the fist place. He might have seen Buddy take Violet, though Buddy had not told the man his intentions for the diversion.

But if he knew that Buddy had Invisigirl, and if the man had found Buddy's lair, which was entirely possible if he'd been followed...then he would have known that the girl in the lair might have been Invisigirl. And with that knowledge, he would know that by kidnapping the girl, he would gain power over Mr. Incredible.

Buddy's eyes narrowed. The man had used all of Buddy's work in order to gain the rewards. He didn't realize that Buddy wasn't doing it for money or power...he'd done it for revenge, strict satisfaction at seeing Mr. Incredible suffer. His last hurrah to his bad side.

Then, what would this man do with Violet?

Buddy's eyes widened, and quick as lighting, his fingers brought up a fresh camera on his large screen. There, the Parr house came up on screen. He'd been watching the house, from time to time, to see if Mr. incredible had indeed given up super duty. And he had. Several small disasters had befallen the city, and Mr. Incredible had stayed holed up in his house. Even more, he hadn't allowed his family to fight either.

Buddy leaned forward in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he zoomed in on the door. He could see activity inside, through the windows, but there was nothing on the doormat or in the mailbox.

It was a matter of minutes to hack into the Parr household's computer system. They weren't nerds on any level, save for the youngest son, but he had no need to try and breach the boy's computer. He got the jackpot on the first shot. The living room computer had a webcam, and he turned it on remotely without turning on the screen. He had viewing access to the room with sound. The image came up as a separate box on his screen.

"Why did they change their mind? I don't understand what's going on!" Helen Parr cried, sitting down on the couch next to her husband, who was gazing out across the room with hard eyes, his fists tight, his jaw locked. There were three other figures in the room, the eldest boy, and two men who were clearly from the agency.

"This is so stupid! Why did they take Violet in the first place!" The young boy shouted, anger simmering on his face. His blond hair wasn't slicked back like normal, and he was wearing pajamas.

"Dash, go to your room," Helen Parr said sharply, looking up through tear-filled eyes. The boy hesitated, clearing wanting to say something, but instead, he disappeared from the room. He literally moved too fast for Buddy to follow. After a moment of silence, Helen looked down down, her face harsh with held-in grief.

"Mrs. Parr…" the taller man in the room broke the silence tentatively, "...it's impossible to understand the mental workings of a villain...but this is good news, in a way. This letter is not as immaculate as the old. We can track this one...and what's more, he gave you a location to drop off the money...we can find your daughter that way." He was the youngest of the two agents, and he held, with gloves, a letter in his hand. Buddy could barely make out the cut out letters that had been glued to the sheet.

"Amateur..." Buddy murmured, straining to try and read it.

He was interrupted by the second agency officer, who spoke slower, with more authority, and with a more intimate tone. He knew the Parrs, and he must have known them for a while. "Bob...I don't think this is the same guy," the man said, gazing down at the ground in thought. Buddy's eyes flashed to his face, watching closely.

"What do you mean?" Robert Parr asked, looking up sharply.

"This...well, this is sloppy. This letter is too excited...too sudden. The first few messages were clean, organized...cautious. The first guy knew what he was doing, and he was good at it. I don't think we would have been able to figure anything out about him. And he was patient. The letters came very spaced apart, and he seemed in no hurry. What's more, when he told you to stop fighting, we expected something really bad to happen. Nothing has. It's like...he just wanted to test you...or play with you. This new letter...it tastes like a whole new villain," the man's eyes slowly moved up to Mr. Incredible's face, his expression one of speculation, thoughtful.

"Well now...so the agency does have some smart men…" Buddy told himself, tilting his head to the side. He was curious as to what they would get from this.

"But...but what does that mean? No one knows that Violet has been taken. We've told no one, and neither have you. How could someone else know?" Robert Parr asked, confusion and pain darkening his features, already haggard from worry.

"It means...either someone found out, which is extremely unlikely, and is pretending to have her...or...well, perhaps the first villain was duped, or maybe he got ahold of Violet somehow...I think we need to follow this advice, given them fake money that has an invisible tag to it, and try to find out where this second villain is. Either way, we have no choice."

"What if she's dead? What if that's the reason for the change...that she's dead…" Mrs. Parr said in a hollow voice, not looking away from the floor.

"I don't think so...we can't think that way. We must hurry. The drop time is tomorrow morning, at 4 am," the older man from the agency, the wiser one, turned on his heel, heading out of range of the camera. The second man shifted, enough that Buddy was able to read the address of the drop site.

"Leonard, bring the paper...we'll do analysis on it while we get the money in order," the older man's voice came from out of visual range, and the taller, lanky man hurried after him.

Buddy reached to turn off the camera, but he stopped for a moment, gazing at the married couple on the couch. Both were silent. Helen had her arm wrapped around her husband's broad shoulders, her elasticity allowing for her to hold all of him. Robert Parr, Mr. Incredible, had never looked more defeated in his life, gazing down at the floor with dread.

"We'll find her…" Helen whispered, barely loud enough for the camera to pick up on it. Her husband said nothing, and Buddy switched off the webcam. He sat back in his chair, gazing at the now empty screen.

All he'd wanted was to watch Mr. Incredible suffer...to make him feel the way Buddy had felt. Now he'd seen it...and it hadn't satisfied him in the way he'd longed for. He felt...nothing. He did not feel bad for the family, no, but he felt no satisfaction in their suffering.

Buddy let out a slow breath as he realized that his driving need for revenge...was gone. He felt...empty, with the loss of something that had been a part of him since his adolescence. No...he wasn't empty. An image of Violet surfaced in his mind. His revenge had been replaced by hope.

Buddy closed his eyes, tilting his head back against his desk chair, and groaned. "What a fucking sap...I've turned into mush...This...is pathetic…" he told himself, covering his face with his hands. "I can't believe the great and terrible Syndrome just admitted that he was full of hope...I sound like a Hallmark card."

But as much as he laughed at himself, he felt...relieved. There was hope for a new life. He was free of his need to torture Mr. Incredible, and now he could focus on...well, real life.

And in this real life...he wanted his Flower.

Buddy straightened, a new resolve making his eyes glow with determination. He didn't know what he felt towards Violet, if it was just infatuation or if it truly was the beginning of something as terrifying as love, but he knew that he needed to find out. He was going to find her.

The drop site for the Parrs was a few blocks from the apartments. He would wait until then, watch the cameras for the hour before the drop time, and he would find that fucker who'd breached his precious lair. He would make him tell him where Violet was, and then he was going to beat the living shit out of the guy.

Satisfied, Buddy got to his feet. He needed rest before the action. He would find Violet, and he would find her before the Parrs could.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys! So...way long time no see, but I've been really busy...and I hope I can finish this story for everyone! I would love some reviews, that always makes me want to work on this story, and I hope you guys enjoy the chapter :P


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